


Broken Loyalties

by Ella_Blackheart



Series: The Holy Blood. [1]
Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Drama, Drama & Romance, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Incest, Pregnancy, Sibling Incest, Suicidal Thoughts, Unplanned Pregnancy, implications of child death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ella_Blackheart/pseuds/Ella_Blackheart
Summary: With an upcoming threat clouding Albion's horizon, Logan tries to settle an alliance with the foreign kingdom of Nivengard. In exchange for an army, he will marry their princess, Nadya, and give his new-found allies a Hero child. But his sister, Lenna, has something to say about that...





	1. The Foreign Intruder

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING:The following story contains mentions of incest between siblings, among other very dramatic situations. Please refrain from reading it if the subject bothers you.

  
***

The essence of a conflict, regardless of its circumstances, is always the same. Two opponents, willing to tear each other apart over a single prize. Further along in her life, Lenna, princess of Albion, would find herself at the center of many battles. She was, after all, destined to become a Hero, like her father. Someday, she would swing her war hammer against the most fearsome monsters and crush the most horrendous creatures with its mighty blow, all in the name of her kingdom. Or so the stories would tell.

Her current battle, however, was more of a mundane one. Her armor was a long gown made out of the finest fabrics, rather than metal. She would not wield a war hammer to crush her challenger -no matter how much she wanted to-, instead, Lenna had to rely on her own wits and charm. Because this time her cause wasn't something as complicated and abstract as a kingdom. Her present-day struggle was over something far more important.

The young princess of Albion studied herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time. Flawless. From the delicate embroidery, that ran all along the bodice, to the sensuous embrace of Finisterran silk around her every curve, everything about her new dress screamed only word: perfection. She pushed up her breasts a little bit further, just enough to emphasize them without being too obvious, and tilted her head in contemplation.

“Is it me, or has my cleavage been looking particularly spectacular lately?” She asked to no one in particular.

“I... I wouldn't know, your highness” The young maid that was helping her get ready for dinner answered shyly.

Lenna's acute sense of smell noticed the slight perspiration on the girl's body. A clear sign of tension concealed underneath cheap rose perfume, and the foul stench that emanated from almost everyone in Albion.

“My lady must be so excited about the engagement.” The maid -whose name Lenna could not remember- tried to make some small talk, while she ruffled her mistress' skirts.

“You have no idea.” The princess' voice came out a lot less enthusiastic than she would have liked. Even if Lenna was less than thrilled about the whole 'engagement' situation, that wasn't something for the help to notice. After all, she had an image to maintain.

“It's alright, your highness.” The maid spoke kindly, but the smell of her unease became more pungent. “When my own brother got married... Oh, I was so jealous! And my mum... She was even worse! Someone told me to see it like I was gaining a sister.”

“I am not jealous!” Lenna yanked her skirt off the maid's hands. “And that... woman will never be my sister!”

The maid looked up at her with her mouth wide open. A citric, smell filled the princess' nostrils. It was one she knew all too well, and one she liked almost above any other. The smell of fear.

“I didn't mean to upset you, my lady.” The girl looked down and bit her lip, ashamed to have displeased her mistress.

Oh yes, Lenna loved the smell of fear. But not the primal kind of terror that her brother, Logan, was so fond of. She took little pleasure in the baseness of having a subject plead for their life. The kind of terror Lenna craved for was the one that came from adoration, the heartbreaking anguish of a poor peasant the moment he or she realized they'll never be good enough for their beloved princess.

“It's alright.” Lenna sighed and patted the young maid's head, much like she did with her dog, Nouk. “I can tell you mean well. It's just that you don't know my brother as well as I do.”

“I must admit his majesty has not been the same ever since...” The maid swung two fingers across her belly. It was the sign the castle's staff used to refer to the wound Logan had gotten a couple of years before in a faraway land. They all believed something had happened to the king of Albion during that journey, something that had left not only a big scar across his midriff, but also a dramatic change in his personality.

“Precisely!” Lenna fell gracefully on a strategically placed chaise lounge. “The way he's been acting lately, how can he even consider bringing someone else into our lives?”

“Well, my mum used to say marriage can make wonders to a man's temper.” The maid fumbled with her tiny hands. “And Princess Nadya seems...”

“Don't you dare mention her name in my presence!” Lenna snapped at the girl, who was now on the verge of tears.  It took a moment for the princess to compose herself, but she eventually managed to force a smile and say, “Let's pretend this conversation never happened, shall we?”

Lenna walked out of her room a fashionable fifteen minutes late for dinner, leaving behind a weeping maid.  To the eyes of her servants, and anyone who might have crossed her path, the princess of Albion was the perfect image of poise and frivolity. Her perfect smile successfully concealing the anger and disgust she reallyfelt.

One of the first things that horrible woman, Nadya, had done upon her arrival to Bowerstone Castle, was to fill almost every single room with her favorite magnolias. Their pungent scent was driving Lenna crazy. Every time she walked out of her room -the only magnolia-free place left in the castle- the  aromatic onslaught made her dizzy, and saturated her nos to the point where she could barely smell anything else. The sudden deprivation of her most valuable sense, left Lenna at a disadvantage.

With a carefully rehearsed pace, she crossed the distance between her chambers and the dining room, ready to make an entrance certain to impress.

“Bad evening, everyone.” She said in her most casual voice -which was, ironically, the one she polished the most-, and flipped her light brown hair back.

It took her a moment to realize the only other person in the room was Jasper, the butler, who had only finished setting up the table.

“Isn't anyone in this castle remotely acquainted with the concept of punctuality?!” She pouted her lips, and tapped her foot on the floor.

“It is a pleasure to see you too, my lady” The man greeted her, unswayed by Lenna's obvious discomfort. “Although I must admit it is quite a surprise to have you here so early.”

“I can't believe I'm the only one here!” She crossed her arms, and her perfectly composed posture crumbled into a childish sag.

“You are always late.” A soft, precise voice, laced with the faintest trace of a foreign accent spoke from behind her. “Therefore,  we took the liberty of calling you in a bit early.”

“My dearest Nadya.” Lenna turned around to face her rival. Nadya, the princess from the frozen kingdom of Nivengard was wearing an elegant, if a bit too plain, light gown. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. And, unlike Lenna, she was not wearing any make up. “If only I could be as modest as you when it comes to my own personal grooming, I would have been here even sooner.”

“My sweet Lenna. There is no need to adorn what's already beautiful.” Nadya smiled warmly at her. “You don't have to try so hard every time. After all, this is but an everyday dinner with only the three of us. Sister.”

“What did you just call me?” Lenna took a step back, bewildered.

“I called you 'sister', my dear.” Nadya moved closer, until they were almost touching. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Me? Mind? Of course not!” Lenna shrugged and forced a smile. At such distance, Lenna should have been more than able to perceive the other woman's smell clearly, and measure her emotions and reactions. But the pungent scent of the magnolias made it impossible. “But... you know? So many things can happen between now and the wedding. We don't want to jinx it, do we?”

“My sweet baby sister!” The princess of Nivengard patted her softly on the head. It was the same kind of condescending gesture Lenna had used on her maid just a few minutes earlier. “You still believe in such things. It's adorable!” Nadya's gray eyes fixed on her own light brown. “Don't worry, my dear. This alliance is going to happen.”

“I wouldn't be so...” Lenna was about to defend herself, when she noticed her brother's tall figure standing in the doorway. There was a sudden flutter of butterflies inside her belly, and her heart jumped up to her throat. She always felt like that in Logan's presence, like she wanted to jump right into his arms. But she wasn't about to show her feelings, specially not in front of her rival. “Well, look who finally decided to honor us with his presence!”

“Your majesty.” Nadya curtsied politely, and then furrowed her brow with concern. “Are you alright, darling?”

“Oh, please decide! Is it going to be 'your majesty' or just 'darling'?” The princess of Albion rolled eyes at the other woman.

“I'm... fine.” Logan's voice was sharp and clear, although a bit hoarser than usual. Lenna noticed his face was a shade paler than usual, and his big dark eyes were a bit glassy. He was most definitely not fine.

Her older brother's health had always been poor. For as long as Lenna could remember, Logan had suffered from a very rare disease. He had once described the feeling like he had acid running through his veins instead of blood. From what she could notice, he was always in some kind of pain. And every now and then he would have sudden episodes where he started bleeding from his mouth and nose.

Nobody knew about Logan's condition, other than Lenna and the royal physician -And he had sworn under the penalty of execution never to reveal the secret-. Albion's king could not be perceived as weak.

“Let's just get this dinner over and done with, shall we?” He said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

 

Jasper, and the rest of the dinner staff, left the three of them alone as soon as their meals were served. The king was a very reserved man, and much to the help's dismay disliked having servants around any longer than necessary.

The meal was served as usual. Tiny portions of raw vegetables for Lenna and Logan, who -thanks to their father's heroic blood- were unable to eat anything else without their bodies suffering the consequences. And some exotic kind of meat for their foreign guest.

As was her habit, Nadya took out a small biscuit from the satchel she always carried around with her. The princess of Nivengard dipped the pastry in her food, and studied it carefully. It was one of the many things about her that unnerved Lenna.

“What is it with you and your biscuits?!” Lenna scoffed and turned to contemplate her own plate for a moment. Her stomach had been acting out in the past weeks. She fluctuated between being too nauseous to eat anything, or desperately craving for food. That day was one of the later.

“It's a Nivengardian tradition.” Nadya answered, wile still holding the cookie. “One I make sure to observe at all times.”

“Well, you are in Albion now.” Lenna rolled eyes at her, and took a bite from a carrot. “Maybe it's time for you to observe our traditions instead.”

“Your traditions?” Nadya tilted her head thoughtfully. “You mean like the one that says no one should start eating before the king does?”

Caught between mouthfuls of vegetables, Lenna turned to look at Logan. As usual, her brother was lost in thought and hadn't even noticed the food laid before him. She shook her head and gave him a kick under the table. He did not react. That's when she realized he was holding a napkin against the lower half of his face, and the red stain that was slowly appearing on the fabric. Logan's illness was manifesting itself in the form of an attack.

“Take a good look, Nadya.” She said, still staring at her ailing brother. “This is the disease you're marrying into.”

The princess of Nivengard paid no attention to Lenna, and rushed to the king's side. “Logan! Quickly, he needs help!” she cried out.

“He will be fine.” Lenna stood up from the table. “All he needs is his emergency medication. I hope he told you where he keeps it.”

Logan turned up his gaze to meet Lenna. His dark eyes, although a bit glassy, were still expressive enough to question her. Lenna had always been the one to give Logan his medicine whenever he had an attack.

“Don't look at me like that, brother.” She frowned and took a step back. “If she is going to be your queen, then you are going to be her problem.”

“We need to get a doctor!” Nadya was about to run out of the room, but Logan placed a hand on her arm and shook his head lightly.

The princess of Nivengard turned to look at him in honest confusion, while Lenna crossed her arms in open defiance.

Without taking his eyes off his sister, Logan reached into his clothes and pulled out a small glass syringe. He fumbled with it for a moment, then, while still holding onto Nadya's arm with one hand, the king of Albion injected himself in the neck.

“I guess that means you don't need me anymore.” Lenna blinked and swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. “Good for you.” She said, and stormed out of the dining room.

* * *

It was almost midnight, but Nadya couldn't manage to sleep. She was taking a long walk around the garden, in hopes that the cool breeze of the night would ease the unbearable heat. For a woman used to the frozen lands of Nivengard, the summer in Albion felt like being trapped inside an oven.

It wasn't just the weather what was keeping her awake that night, though. Nadya had been unable to stop thinking about what happened at dinner. Logan had been completely honest to her about his illness from the very beginning. However, she had never actually witnessed him suffer an attack before. It had been a shocking image, to see him bleeding and in so much pain, although nowhere near as horrible as Lenna's shameless cruelty. Nadya just couldn't begin to imagine how a sister would allow her own brother to suffer like that.

“Afraid that you are marrying into a disease?” Logan's tired voice spoke from behind her.

“Not afraid, frustrated.” She answered, and it wasn't a lie. When it came to science and technology, Nivengard was the most advanced kingdom in the whole wide world. But even their most skilled doctors were baffled with Logan's condition. Not only were they unable to heal him, they couldn't even tell what it was that afflicted the king of Albion.

“I told you when we first met. My condition is neither contagious nor hereditary.” He explained and moved closer until they were both standing side by side.

"I've never met anyone beyond the expertise of Nivengard's finest physicians" Nadya looked up at him.  Even if she wasn't particularly short, Logan still towered several inches over her.

“My disease is the price I had to pay in order to refuse a gift I never wanted.” He explained. "It's nature is not one that can be understood with science alone."

“There is nothing beyond the reach of science." Nadya tilted her head. "Given enough time and resources, it would be even possible to replicate your father's extraordinary abilities."

"If such were the case..." Logan smirked. "Your father wouldn't have the need to make an alliance."

Nadya had seen Logan's father, King Jacques, only once when she was a child and had found him quite terrifying. However, the power in his precious blood had captured the tzar's interest. He wanted some of it to flow through the veins of the Nivengardian royal family. “It's a lot easier, and way faster, to breed a Hero into our family."

“And in exchange, the tzar will give me fifty thousand elements of your 'Invincible Army." Logan nodded softly. "To do with them as I please."

"That was the agreement."Nadya answered without emotion.

Nivengard's most valuable asset was what they called the 'Invincible Army'. Almost half a million of mechanical soldiers, stronger and more resilient than almost any human. There had only been one man able to win a fight against an invincible soldier: The legendary Hero of Albion, King Jacques. Ever since, the tzar of Nivengard, Nadya's father, had been determined to start breeding a long lineage of Heroes of their own.

“I'm sorry you had to be drawn into this as if you were a broodmare.” Logan apologized with such a genuine outrage, it made Nadya smile.

“Such innocence! Sometimes it's hard to forget your family has only been on the throne for a couple of generations.” She said tenderly. “My dearest Logan, such is the way of royalty. The firstborn child is meant to rule, the rest of us are nothing but glorified... breeding stock. We are married off to strangers for our kingdoms to seal alliances. That's our whole purpose in life.”

“You can be a harsh person.” Logan furrowed his brow. " I could never force Lenna into a political marriage."

“I don't believe in sugar-coating the truth.” Nadya tilted her head questioningly. "If you are not going to marry her off, then what exactly are you planning to do with Lenna?"

“Lenna is her own person.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “She should be able to marry whomever she wants.”

“Logan...” She shook her head. "... We both know who it is that Lenna really wants, and we both know that love will never amount to anything."

* * *

The princess of Albion had never been a morning person. If possible, she preferred to sleep until around noon. In the past few weeks, however, her increasingly upset stomach had made a point to wake Lenna up at nine o clock sharp, usually with a fit of nausea. And it was impossible for her to go back to sleep afterward.

She missed the days before Logan's wound when both siblings would have breakfast together. Ever since he returned from his mysterious journey, her brother was always far too busy. As a matter of fact, it had been a little over two months since the last time they had spent some real quality time together -And that was only because Lenna had done everything in her power to make that encounter happen-. It had been around the time Nadya had shown up to ruin their otherwise happy lives.

Lenna walked out to the garden. Elliot, her better-than-nothing boyfriend, was waiting for her next to the fountain. She took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face.

Elliot smelled like soup; like a thick, overcooked, vegetable stew. Lenna found it hard to endure most days. And that morning in particular, it was unbearable. So when he leaned forward to kiss her, the princess of Albion had to fake a cough to avoid him.

“Are you alright?” He fumbled between trying to help her or just standing still.

“Yes, I just... I feel slightly under the weather this morning.” Lenna straightened herself. Elliot smiled and reached out to hug her one more time, but the she took another step back. “Just... no touching, please.”

“I see...” Elliot frowned slightly, but made no more attempts to move closer. He just looked at Lenna with big longing eyes. The thing she liked the most about him was that, no matter how many times she pushed him away, Elliot always came back like a good little pet. “Will you still be able to make it to my mother's tea party this evening?”

“Of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world.” Lenna placed a hand on her chest, and smiled tenderly. “You know how much I love your mother. And, Elise... she is just delightful!”

Elliot's mother was a fat, insufferable crone, whose only redeeming feature was that she happened to know all of the court's latest gossip. Elliot's twin sister, Elise, was even worse. She was a know-it-all, bleeding-heart, who only cared about spreading her 'social awareness'. Lenna could stand neither of them.

“I'm glad you are taking it all so well.” Elliot let out a sigh of relief. “Seriously, when my mother proposed to throw a tea party in honor of Princess Nadya, I thought you were going to...”

“Do not mention that... woman in my presence!” Lenna snapped out. “I can't imagine why a sensible woman such as your mother would want to honor that Nivengardian...”

“She might become our queen one day, you know?” Elliot recoiled and covered himself, fully aware of what his words might unleash.

“Over. My. Dead. Body.” Lenna narrowed her eyes.

“That's the spirit!” The loud, gruffy voice of Walter spoke right next to her. Lenna turned to look at him and they exchanged knowing smiles. “The last thing this kingdom needs is another foreign queen.”

Sir Walter Beck, Lenna's mentor and father figure, smelled like leather, chicken crap and stale beer. He was like the essence of Albion all concentrated into one, big, fat man. On that regard, his raging nationalism came as no surprise to the princess.

“If you ask me...” Walter continued speaking. “... What the king really needs a good, sturdy, local girl. Someone who can bring him close to the people.”

“My poor, poor brother.” Lenna sighed, and bowed her head. “He has not been in his right mind ever since...” She swung two fingers across her belly.

“Has he told you how -or where- is that he he got the...” Elliot mimicked her gesture.

“Not a word.” She answered. “Only his 'end of the world' delusions. He insists on saying something bad is going to happen, and expects everyone to take his word for it.”

“Such a terrible situation.” Walter crossed his arms over his big, round belly and shook his head. “I've heard he even talks to himself out loud these days.”

“That is not news.” Lenna commented.“Logan has always talked to to himself.”

“Maybe.” Walter shifted his weight from one foot to another. It was like watching a barrel swinging. “But this time it is 'delusional' talk.”

“Ant those new guards...” Elliot shrugged.

“I know, right!” Lenna grimaced. “What's with the masks?”

“Not only that!” Walter raised his hands in outrage. “Their captain... another foreigner! Sometimes I believe Logan is trying to sell this kingdom out.”

"Well, Queen Anna herself was Finisterran." Elliot said thoughtfully. "King Jacques did not seem to mind."

"Queen Anna tried to turn Albion into her own twisted version of Finisterre!" Walter groaned, and then turned to look at Lenna with an apologetic smile. "No offense, princess. I know she was your mother."

“None taken, Walter” Lenna frowned and looked at Nadya, who was slowly approaching them. "Speaking of foreign invaders..."

Nouk, Lenna's border collie, also noticed the other princess. He ran towards Nadya, wagging his tail and barking. The princess of Nivengard gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and fed him one of her infamous biscuits.

“Nouk!” Lenna cried out, and then muttered. “You treacherous mongrel. We do not cahoot with the enemy.”

“My dearest sister, Lenna.” Nadya greeted her with a smile on her face and Nouk still by her side. “And company.”

“Princess Nadya.” Elliot, who was a bit too well mannered for Lenna's taste, bowed politely.

“Your highness.” Walter, on the other hand, limited himself to make a gesture with his head. It was not openly disdainful, but still distant enough to show the man's disapproval.

“My sweet Nadya.” Lenna approached her rival, and gave her an air kiss on each cheek. “How delightful it is to see you. I trust last night's dinner wasn't too heavy for you.”

“Not at all.” Nadya's smile turned into a smirk for a split second. “It was pretty mild, compared to what I'm used to.”

“I guess we'll need to spice things up a little more the next time.” Lenna' honey colored eyes looked straight into Nadya's gray ones.

“I'll be looking forward to it.” Nadya held Lenna's gaze, completely unimpressed.

“Come on, princess.” Walter placed a huge hand on Lenna's shoulder. “It's time for your combat practice.”

Lenna grinned, suddenly illuminated by the most delightful idea. “Say, Nadya, would you be as kind as to join me for a sparring session?.”

“I'm afraid I'm not much of a fighter.” The princess of Nivengard took a step back, and her smile faded for only a moment before she added. “I'm more of a lover, if you know what I mean.”

“But it is a well known tradition in Albion.” Lenna insisted. “All members of the royal family should be well versed in combat. And, since it's your intention to become one of us...”

The princess of Nivengard hesitated for a second. She looked at Lenna up and down, and narrowed her eyes in thought. “I guess you leave me no choice. Let me change into something more practical, and I'll meet you in the sparring room.”

“Don't keep me waiting too long.” Lenna smirked. “And don't worry, I'll take it easy on you.”

Walter, of course, did not object to his princess' idea. Much like Lenna -albeit for different reasons- the old knight wasn't particularly fond of their guest. And he wasn't about to refuse a chance to see a foreign noble humiliated. He prepared the sparring room, and selected their weapons carefully.

Soon both princesses were changed into more practical outfits, and ready for combat practice. Walter handed each one a sword. Lenna was about to protest about how she preferred the war hammer until she noticed the most curious detail. While the old knight had given Nadya the standard, dull, practice blade, the weapon in Lenna's hand was very real. And very sharp.

Lenna exchanged looks with Walter. The man smiled, but gave her a cautionary glance. Murdering a foreign princess would be an instant declaration of war, and Albion wouldn't stand a chance against Nivengard's Invincible Army. Lenna should not put her own kingdom in that situation. However, accidents could still happen, and pretty faces could still end up bearing permanent scars.

In combat like in life, Lenna was an offensive player. She launched herself against her opponent fast and without mercy. She pressed forward, and aimed for the kill -wound, in this case- every single time.

Nadya was, like she previously admitted, not much of a fighter. However, Lenna soon realized, that did not mean she was completely untrained. She moved around the room like a dancer, graciously dodging each and everyone of Lenna's attacks. Fighting her was exhausting.

“You should try to hit me every now and then, dear.” Lenna taunted her opponent. “My brother doesn't need a woman who's incapable of pulling her own weight.”

“My sweet sister.” Nadya answered. “His majesty is more than capable of pulling the weight of this kingdom -and your own- without breaking a sweat.”

Lenna cried out and lurched forward, aiming her sword toward the other woman's face. Nadya twirled gracefully to the side, and dodged the attack.

“You shouldn't underestimate the king.” Now it was Nadya's turn to get at her. “After all, there are so many things you, as his sister, will never know about him.”

“Nobody knows Logan better than I do.” Lenna smirked, and attacked once again. Nadya blocked her blow this time. Their swords crashed against each other, and their eyes met.

“Really? Tell me, Lenna, has he told you how he got his scar?” Nadya pushed forward with all her strength, breaking Lenna's balance and causing her to fall back a few steps. “It was such a horrible experience. I wouldn't be surprised if he chose to spare you the details."

“You are bluffing!” Lenna shook her head. She could not believe Logan would confide in Nadya rather than in her.

“Oh! You don't know, do you?.” Nadya widened her eyes in mocking surprise. “He told me back when we first settled the terms of the alliance. But I guess it only makes sense he wouldn't talk to you about it.”

“That is ridiculous!” Lenna cried out. “Why would he tell you and not me?”

“Because, unlike you, I believe in him.” The words flowed out of Nadya's mouth, and cut through Lenna like daggers. So that was the game she was playing. Nadya was taking Logan away from her by pretending she believed in his delusions.

Lenna appraised her opponent under a different light. Nadya was a schemer, and as such she should be dealt with. She had made Lenna believe she was not a fighter, when it was clear she knew her way in combat. It would take more than just basic attacks to beat her.

Lenna lurched forward again. But this time, instead of a simple strike, the princess of Albion performed one of her most complex floritures. She twirled and swayed her sword sideways, effectively preventing Nadya from sliding out of harm's way.

“What's going on here?!” The sound of a familiar voice entering the room distracted Lenna long enough for Nadya to cover her face. Lenna's sword impacted against the other woman's arm, leaving a bloody gash under its blow.

“Logan!” Nadya dropped her sword, and rushed into the king's arms. “I'm wounded!”

“What is the meaning of this?!” Logan snapped out.

“Just a sparring accident, you majesty.” Walter, who up to that point had remained completely uninvolved in the fight, answered plainly.

“You had them sparring with sharp blades? What kind of incompetent fool are you?!” The king of Albion narrowed his eyes, and turned to look at Lenna. “And what were you thinking to strike a blow like that against our guest? I expected more from you, Lenna.”

“Lenna is just a child, darling.” Nadya interceded, her voice soft and conciliatory. She was pressing a handkerchief firmly against her wound. “Don't be so hard on her.”

“I am not a child!” Lenna drooped her sword violently to floor.

“We need to get that wound looked at. Darling.” Logan's eyes turned to Nadya, and he emphasized the endearment. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her out of the sparring room. The princess of Nivengard flashed Lenna one last smile before leaving.

“I...” The princess of Albion's mouth went dry, and a giant lump formed in her throat. Tears threatened to appear in the corners of her eyes. “I... hate her!” Was all she managed to say without breaking down in front of Walter.

“Well, now our 'foreign guest' knows better than to mess with Albion.” The old knight said proudly, and gave Lenna a strong pat on the back. “And your brother is starting to notice just how much like your father you really are. All in all, I would say this was a great outcome.”

Lenna silently counted up to ten to prevent herself from yelling at her mentor. Walter was all about combat, and her father's heroic deeds. However, when it came to feelings and other subtleties, the man was completely clueless. Lenna wondered if he ever had a lover he didn't pay for.

“I'm done practicing for the day.” She whispered, and walked out of the room.

* * *  
The wound had required a few stitches, and was certain to leave a scar. Nadya looked at her arm and frowned. “My father is not going to be pleased.” She finally said.

Logan turned to look at her with eyes full of anxiety. The king of Albion was counting on the alliance -and the army that came with it- to save his kingdom from a terrible threat.

“Do not fret.” She reassured him. “I am not going to tell him. I wouldn't want your people dying over a flesh wound."

“I wouldn't blame you if you chose to end this engagement right now.” Logan fell on the couch beside her and buried his face in his hands. He looked so overwhelmed, that Nadya couldn't help but reach out with her good arm and rub his back gently. "My sister can act like a terrible person sometimes."

She remembered the day Logan had shown up in Nivengard to settle an alliance with her father. The young king's battered appearance had left Nadya speechless. She had known him for years. The circle of royalty was a small one, and they had often seen each other at parties and other international affairs. He had always been pale and a little brooding. However, the man that stepped into their palace that day had been a terrible sight. With his gaunt face, and those dark red circles under his eyes, Logan had looked like a cadaver.

But that corpse had walked straight and proud. And he had stepped in front of the tzar like an equal. Even in his time of need, Logan had not gone to beg for assistance, but to negotiate an alliance. Nadya had been so smitten by his strength, that she had volunteered herself to marry him.

That very night, after all the arrangements and formalities were done. Logan had gone to her in private and spent hours telling her all his secrets. He claimed it was just so she would know what to expect, and the kind of family she was marrying into. Although she believed it had been more because he needed to get those things out of his chest.

He spoke about his illness, and how he suffered it in secret since he was a child. He described the feeling of his blood burning him from the inside. He confessed how he used his temper as a shield; the many times he had faked a tantrum to step out of a meeting, and not let anyone find out he was about to have an attack. All because he knew Albion could not afford to have its king perceived as feeble.

He told her about his trip to Aurora, and the threat that would consume his kingdom unless he assembled an army capable of protecting it. He spoke bitterly about those around him, and how they refused to believe him.

Finally, Logan talked to Nadya about Lenna, and the complicated nature of their relationship.

It seemed like he had been expecting for her to be outraged, to call out to her father and break the alliance on the spot. But, unlike Albion, Nivengard was an old kingdom. Its long dynasty of monarchs had secrets of their own, and some of them were so dark and twisted, they made Logan's confessions seem almost trivial.

As a matter of fact, the only thing Logan had accomplished by revealing himself to Nadya the way he did, was to increase the fondness she already felt towards him.

Back to the present moment, with the both of them sitting on that couch in Bowerstone Castle, and even with an aching wound on her arm, Nadya knew there was no other man in the whole world she would rather marry.

“Lenna is not taking things well.” She said, and ran her fingers through his black hair. "Yet again, I wasn't expecting her to be any different."

“She's not always hateful like that." Logan leaned back into her touch and let out a sigh. “It's all Walter's influence. He's poisoning my own sister against me.”

Nadya pursed her lips. She cared about Logan, and respected his judgment in almost every circumstance. But the king of Albion had a huge blind spot when it came to Lenna.

“My darling, Logan.” Nadya spoke softly. She knew there was not an easy way to say what she was about to. But it felt like she would be doing him a big disservice by keeping quiet. “Has it ever occurred to you that it might be the other way around? That is not everyone else who's turning Lenna against you, but more like she is the one fanning their hatred?”

“You don't know what you're talking about.” Logan moved brusquely away from her, suddenly defensive. “Lenna is a sweet girl deep inside. She would never...”

“You saw the way she acted at dinner last night.” Nadya folded her hand back into her lap. “She saw you were in pain, and was willing to let you suffer.”

“Lenna can be a bit territorial, alright?” Logan frowned, although Nadya could see a slight flicker of doubt appear in his dark eyes. “She is just acting out because she is jealous.”

“She hates me.” Nadya's expression remained as calmed as ever, even while her heart was screaming for Logan to wake up. “She has to keep you down, so that you will always feel like you need her. She hates me because I offer you an option.”

“What kind of option?” Logan asked coldly.

“The option of a better life.” She answered.

“What makes you think you are better than her?” He narrowed his eyes and stood up from the couch, widening the distance between them.

“I never said I was better than her.” Nadya explained. “What I'm saying is that being married to me will always be a better choice than whatever you can have with Lenna.”

“You don't understand.” Logan furrowed his brow. "She needs me, as much as I need her. Lenna and I... we are not like everybody else, what we have..."

“Does she make you happy?" Nadya looked into his eyes. "Does she make you feel good about yourself?"

“My relationship with Lenna is none of your business.” He stated firmly, and made his way to the door.  “And I would appreciate if you stopped calling me 'darling'. I find it distasteful.” He said and walked out of the room.

* * *

Aside from her universal knowledge of gossip, another one of Elliot's mother very scarce qualities was her ability to throw a party. That evening's tea was a perfect example of luxury and good taste. The tables were set with all sorts of pastries and desserts. Albion's typical pies, Finisterran eclairs au chocolat, baklava from Samarkand, and -of course- Nivengard's most famous pryanik.

All of the important ladies of the court were there, eating and prattling about Albion's most recent scandals. It was a clothesline that extended all the way from Mistpeak to Bloodstone and back.

Lenna's mood had improved significantly after what happened during her sparring session. For one, she was delighted to see Nadya had to forfeit her usual light gowns in exchange for long sleeves, to cover up the small souvenir Lenna had left her with. Without the pungent smell of flowers clouding her nose, she was finally able to capture her rival's particular scent. Not surprisingly, Nadya smelled mostly like magnolias.

However, the true reason why princess of Albion was beaming with joy was because she had finally come up with a plan to get rid off her challenger once and for all.

Clever as she was, Lenna had found, while she was still enraged, breaking things around her chambers, a small vial she had been saving for a rainy day. It was a plain, odorless powder -and if Lenna herself could not smell it, chances were no one else could-, that looked a lot like sugar. She sprinkled some of it on top of a pryanink, and prepared herself for action.

The most important thing to remember while offering a fake apology, is to make sure to do it publicly. Lenna made her way across the room, holding between her hands a tiny plate with her spiced dessert, toward the couch where Nadya was sitting. The princess of Nivengard was surrounded by women, their  hostess among them, all dying to know every single detail about her engagement to the king.

“Nadya.” Lenna stepped in front of her rival, bowed her head and offered Nadya the plate. “I came to apologize. Know that, from the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry for everything I've done to you.”

“Excuse me?” Nadya tilted her head, confused by Lenna's sudden change of attitude.

All of the ladies that surrounded them fell silent, not wanting to miss a bit of the exchange between both princesses.

“I... I have been so horrible to you, I will understand if you cannot forgive me.” Lenna's brown eyes filled with tears, and her voice cracked. “Ever since our parents died, it has always been Logan and me.  When you came along I... I was so jealous. I was afraid he wouldn't love me anymore!”

“Oh, dear!” Nadya took the plate from Lenna's hands and placed it on the table. She stood up, and pulled the princess of Albion into a tight hug. “I understand how you feel! But believe me when I tell you, that both his majesty and I love you very much. You are now my little sister too.”

“Are we good, then?” Lenna wiped away her tears and signaled the pryanik. “I even brought you one of those wonderful Nivengardian pastries our hostess was so kind to procure.”

All of the ladies awed, and exchanged looks of endearment at the tender scene developing in front of them.

“There is one thing, though. The custom dictates that it should be someone from my own family, but... who cares about those things, anyways?” Nadya looked down and bit her lip shyly. The crowd held their breaths. “Lenna, will you grant me the pleasure of being my maid of honor?”

“Of course!” Lenna placed a hand over her chest and fought back the tears once more. “Sister.”

The crowd of women that surrounded them went wild with applause and cheer. The lovely scene of friendship and forgiveness that both princesses had presented them with, was certain to give them something to talk about until the actual wedding.

“Now, why don't we enjoy some this delicious dessert you were so kind to bring for me.” Nadya urged Lenna to sit beside her on the couch. The princess of Nivengard smiled and took the plate with the poisoned pryanik. She extended it towards Lenna. “Will you share it with me?”

“I'm afraid I can't.” Lenna smiled sheepishly. “I am not supposed to eat anything other than raw vegetables or fruits. It's a family condition.”

“Of course! Silly me.” Nadya broke the pryanik in half with a fork and -why not?- reached into her satchel for one of her infamous biscuits.

“Are you going to dip a pastry in... another pastry?” Lenna raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It's a Nivengardian tradition, my dear.” Nadya dipped the biscuit right into the middle of the pryanik, and looked at it for a moment. Then, as if something really important had caught her attention, she looked behind Lenna and waved her hand. “Isn't that your boyfriend over there?”

“Elliot!” Lenna turned back abruptly to look at the boy. “What are you doing here?! This is an all-ladies gathering!”

“I... live...err... here...” Elliot looked around, clearly intimidated by the large amount of women that surrounded him.

“Oh, but it's such a pleasure to see you again!” Nadya smiled, and scooted on the couch to make room for him right between Lenna and her. “Come sit with us!”

Although the three of them were quite slim, the couch was still a bit too crowded for Lenna's taste. More than that, the unbearable proximity of Elliot and his soup smell were making her nauseous. And Nadya had yet to take a bite from the pryanik.

“So, how long have you been together?” The princess of Nivengard asked, still fidgeting with her biscuit.

“It's been a few years now.” Elliot smiled, and wrapped his arm around Lenna's shoulders.

“That's such a long time!” Nadya gasped. “But I find it quite reasonable that you want to wait until you are older before getting married.”

“Getting married?” Lenna widened her eyes, and tried to push Elliot away. However, the couch was a bit too crowded for her to be able to do so without making a scene. “What are you talking about?!”

“My apologies. I'm still not quite familiar with the social customs of Albion.” Nadya covered her mouth with one hand. “In Nivengard, a princess would never call a man her 'boyfriend' unless she is planning to marry him.”

“But Princess Lenna and my son do intend to get married!” Elliot's mother intervened, her plump face all flushed. “Am I wrong, your highness?”

“Of course we do! Lenna and I are in love!” Elliot proved his point by placing a kiss on Lenna's lips.

His soup smell filled her nostrils, and it was just too much for Lenna's stomach to bear. She pushed Elliot away from her, and stood up as fast as she could, covering her mouth with both hands in search of the nearest lavatory.

As it turned out, her sudden attack of nausea was the best thing that could have happened to her. Not five minutes after she left, the loud scream of Elliot's mother was heard through all o the house. Lenna smiled as she wiped her mouth clean. Nadya was finally over and done with.

She ran back into the room, wearing her most concerned expression.

“Nadya!” She cried out. “My beloved sister! What has happened to you?”

The crowd of women, who was now gathered around an unconscious figure, turned to look at Lenna as if she had suddenly grown an extra head. Among them, Nadya was standing safe and sound.

“Nothing has happened to me, dear.” She said, and gave Lenna a suspicious look. “But I appreciate your concern.”

“Then who is...?” Lenna's jaw dropped when the crowd parted to reveal Elliot laying unconscious on the floor, convulsing and foaming from the mouth.

“My poor baby!” His mother wailed loudly, while Elise was desperately trying to calm her down.

“I'll send one of my servants to the castle right away.” Nadya spoke calmly and made a sign to one of her handmaids. “The royal physician should be here in no time.”

“He was poisoned!” Elise cried out. “Who could have done such a thing?!”

“We will find out.” Nadya reassured them. “I'll have the best investigators from Nivengard brought, if necessary.”

“Do you think he will make it?” Someone from the crowd asked.

“What do you think, Lenna?” Nadya turned to look at the princess of Albion. “Will Elliot be alright?”

“I guess so...” Lenna bit her lower lip, and mumbled in a very low voice. “In about six or eight weeks. If he's lucky.”

* * *

A few hours later, Dr. Winton, the royal physician, confirmed what Nadya already knew. The poison, although powerful, was not of the lethal kind. If properly treated, the boy would be back to himself in a few months.

Lenna had successfully managed to create an alibi for herself, by claiming she had felt sick in the middle of the party and had gone to the lavatory to vomit. Dr. Winton had insisted on examining the princess right away, to make sure there were no traces of poison in Lenna's system. It was the perfect defense, if someone had tried to poison her as well, chances were she wasn't the culprit.  Nadya knew better.

Nivengard was an old kingdom, and poison was nothing new to their royal family. On that regard, they had come up an almost infallible mechanism to detect whenever their food had been tainted. The biscuits she carried in her satchel were prepared with a special, secret recipe. Whenever they made contact with any kind of toxin, their color would change from golden brown to a slight green hue. Hence the custom of dipping them in every meal before taking the first bite.

Although, she had known Lenna was up to something even before she tested the pryanik. The princess of Albion never offered a sincere apology. Nadya believed Lenna was completely unable to distinguish right from wrong. That woman was utterly insane, and very dangerous. Nadya felt sorry for Logan, after all it was him who had to endure the worst of Lenna.

Nadya had meant every single word she said to him earlier that day. However -and despite everything that happened soon after-, it had been wrong for her to overstep his boundaries. Logan had been right when he told her his relationship with Lenna was none of Nadya's business. It was her time to apologize.

She took a deep breath, and knocked on Logan's door.

“Come in.” His weary voice called from the inside.

He was leaning over the war table, as usual, thinking about the mysterious enemy that threatened to destroy his kingdom. Nadya couldn't help but notice he had taken off his armor and jacket. It was easy to appreciate his lean, yet strong body underneath the light shirt he was wearing. Nadya had to take a deep breath, and will herself not to blush.

“Nadya.” Logan widened his eyes, surprised to see her. “I was not expecting you.”

“If this is not a good moment, I'll leave.” She took a step back.

Logan looked around the room, as if trying to find the rest of his outfit. “No, it's just that...”

“I just came to tell you that I'm sorry.” Nadya said plainly, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than he already was. “You were right. Your relationship with Lenna is none of my business.”

“It was she who poisoned the boy.” Logan frowned and shook his head. “I wasn't there, and I cannot prove anything, but I know it was her.”

"I wouldn't..." She took another step back. After their last argument, and despite what he said, she knew better than to incriminate Lenna in front of her brother.

"It has happened before, you know?" He looked sat her, his big dark eyes were full of grief and concern. "Every time someone tries to get close to me, they all suffer some kind of 'accident'. Sometimes I feel like she is trying to isolate me."

“Today was a particularly rough day. What happened to that poor boy was really unfortunate.” Nadya nodded and walked towards the war table. There were small golden figures representing Albion's army, black figures for the enemy, and a few silver ones meant for the Invincible Soldiers Nadya's father would provide. “But let's not forget we are here to serve a higher purpose.”

“Lenna never thinks about the consequences of her actions. But this time...” Logan took one of the silver figures, and knocked a golden one with it. “...Had she managed to seriously harm you... Albion will not survive both a war with Nivengard and the battle against The Darkness. I'm not even sure we can win a single one of them.”

“You don't have to worry about me, Logan. I can take care of myself.” Nadya placed a reassuring hand on top of his. “You need to focus your attention on what really matters, and that is the safety of your kingdom. If we are going to endure the upcoming threat...”

“I don't think we will.” He blurted out and slammed his fist against the table, knocking down most of the figures. “Don't get me wrong, I intend to try until my last breath. But there is only so much I can do. I am not my father. I am not a Hero.”

“If you ask me...” Nadya squeezed his hand and smiled softly. “... Heroes are completely overrated.”

“Says the woman whose father is obsessed with breeding one of his own.” Logan smirked.

“My father has his own ideas. And I will do his bidding because it is my duty. That doesn't mean I share his vision.” Nadya looked into his eyes. “I don't believe in Heroes, Logan. From what I've heard about your father, and those that came before him. Heroes have done Albion more damage than good.”

“Why do I think you're about to speak another one of your sharp truths?” Logan tilted his head, but did not withdraw his hand from hers.

“If you prefer, I'll keep it to myself.” She offered.

“No” He shook his head. “Please, speak your mind.”

“Your people have grown lazy. They are so accustomed to have a Hero to take care of all of their problems, that they don't know how to rely on their own resources anymore.” Nadya used the hand that wasn't holding his to accommodate the figures back in position. “And they will never appreciate all the things you've done for this kingdom. You have brought them industry and progress. You have strengthened Albion's international presence; we foreigners no longer see you like a rural province. You are ten times the king your father ever was. And it doesn't matter. At the end of the day, all they want is a Hero to go and kill the monsters they could kill themselves, if only they made an effort.”

“And this is the kingdom you intend to be queen of.” Logan sighed.

“When the day comes, I will be proud to call myself queen of Albion.” Nadya crossed the distance between them, until she was standing only a few inches away from him. “Not because I believe in Heroes, but because I believe in you.”

She was not expecting for him to kiss her, but still welcomed the touch of his lips against hers. He was like a drowning man, reaching through the heavy current for a saving branch. And, at the same time, he was a steel structure, unbreakable against the storm. Nadya wrapped her arms around his, offering him all the comfort and reassurance she could. And melted into his own embrace, awed to be held by such an outstanding man.

They parted for breath, and looked into each other's eyes without saying a word. The name of the one that stood between them, lingering on the tip of their tongues. Neither of them was willing to speak it out loud, partly due to an irrational fear of summoning her; but mostly because once her name was spoken out loud, whatever was happening between them would be broken. They just kissed again in silence, and kept on doing so all the way into his bedroom.

* * *

Dr. Winton had turned white like a ghost, and was looking at Lenna with eyes as big as saucers. Apparently, what he discovered, after examining the princess, was not what he expected. “... So the cause of your highness' sudden nausea was... not poison.”

“Such an amazing turn of events, isn't it?” Lenna caressed her belly and smiled. Once again, the universe rearranged itself in her favor.

“Do you know who...”The doctor started to ask.

“Of course I do! I'm neither an idiot, nor a tramp.” Lenna furrowed her brow at the man, and then turned to look down at her own stomach once more. “I know exactly whose royal blessing it is that I'm carrying.”

The doctor's face was now drained of all color. His jaw dropped in an expression of pure horror.

Lenna couldn't care less about what he thought. In fact, she couldn't care less about anyone else's opinion. She had a new life growing inside of her, something that was both hers and Logan's. Another unbreakable link, to tighten the chain that bound them together. Something he would never be able to walk away from

“His majesty...” The muttered, unable to wipe the horrified expression from his face.

“I will talk to him, don't worry.” She said with a smile, and stood up to leave. "And I suppose I don't have to remind you about your vow of silence."

* * *

It felt good, the cool breeze of the night against her naked skin as they laid in bed together. Logan was sleeping soundly, his features relaxed into a peaceful expression. Nadya could tell that what had happened between them had been more of a therapeutic experience for him.

She traced her fingers over the large scar that ran across his midriff. It must have been a horrible experience, to be there, all alone in the desert, just waiting to bleed to death.

“Impressive, isn't it?” He asked her, his dark eyes still closed.

“Very much.” Nadya snuggled closer to him. “Not everybody survives a wound that deep. You are a very resilient man.”

“I used to wish I had died on that cave.” He opened his eyes, and wrapped an arm around her. “But now I'm not so sure.”

“I'm glad you didn't.” She kissed him softly on the lips.

“You do realize this will only complicate things, don't you?” He whispered. “Lenna will not...”

“Do you regret this?” Nadya placed a hand on his cheek, gently tilting his face so he was looking straight into her eyes.

“No.” Logan furrowed his brow, but did not hesitate. “What we just did... I needed this, Nadya. I needed it to happen, or else I would have lost myself completely.”

“What do you mean?” She stroked his cheek, and tilted her head slightly.

“I needed to remember what it felt like to lay beside a lover, without the guilt of knowing I had committed a crime against nature.” He answered in a whisper. “As selfish as it sounds, I needed you to remind me that I can still love someone without hating myself for it.”

“Oh, but aren't you two just adorable!” The sound of Lenna's voice startled the both of them.

There she was, standing at the foot of their bed with one hand resting on her belly, and a smirk on her face. The light from the fireplace danced around her body, making her look like a banshee.

“Don't you ever knock?” Logan wrapped a sheet around Nadya's body, and pulled her closer to him. His eyes, however, were fixed on Lenna.

“I didn't see the need.” She smiled like a cat about to feast on a bowl of cream. “After all, my love, we already know all there is to know about each other, don't we?”

Lenna turned to look at Nadya, like she was expecting her to be shocked or outraged. She held her gaze without emotion.

“I take it she already knows. And she laid with you anyways.” The princess of Albion shook her head. “How shameless of her.”

“Get out of here, Lenna.” Logan's voice was low but still menacing.

Lenna ignored him, and strutted proudly around the bed until she was standing right above Nadya.

“Hasn't anybody told you stealing other women's lovers is not only wrong, but utterly distasteful?” The time of subtle, backhanded hostility was done. And it was the princess of Albion, who declared the beginning of an open war. “Get your filthy hands off my man, you foreigner.”

 

 


	2. The Lost Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lenna's unexpected pregnancy, and the dissolution of the alliance between Albion and Nivengard put Logan in an impossible situation. Back in her own kingdom, Nadya has to deal with the consequences of her failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS INCEST, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, CHILD LABOR, ABORTION, INSINUATIONS OF CHILD MURDER, AMONG OTHER MATURE THEMES. IF ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS BOTHERS YOU PLEASE DO NOT READ.

 

 

***  
  
"I'm pregnant, Logan." Lenna's words echoed through the silent bedroom, while Nadya was still laying in his arms. "I'm pregnant and it's yours."  
  
The princess of Nivengard could not remember how it was that she got dressed, and left the room. Even the words spoken right after Lenna's sudden confession had slipped her mind. As soon as she got up from Logan's bed, Nadya's brain had entered in an automatic crisis mode. Before she could even realize the implications of what she was about to do, Nadya was already well on her way to Bowerstone's market.  
  
All of her life, Nadya had been educated under the principle of calmed efficiency. Whenever a problem arose, the only acceptable course of action was towards the solution. In Nivengard the cold weather was brutal enough for someone to actually freeze to death, if they stood still for too long. Taking time to grieve was never an option.  
  
Fortunately for her, bloodflowers were quite easy to come by almost anywhere in the world. Although, Nadya suspected, the overabundance of such plant in the markets had very little to do with luck, and more with its very effective properties. Wherever there was a woman in desperate need to get rid of a... tiny problem, bloodflower tea would be there to help.  
  
Lenna couldn't be more than two months into her... condition. There was still time for the plants to work their magic, and make it quick and painless. It would all be over in less than an hour. Nadya knew well from experience.  
  
 _Once upon a time there was a foolish young princess, who gave her heart to a soldier._  
  
Nadya looked expressionless at the old man from the apothecary, who had pursed his chaffed lips in veiled judgment as he carefully packed a bunch of bloodflowers for his cloaked customer. She was sweating underneath the heavy shroud, made to endure the crude winters of Nivengard, but not a hot summer morning in Albion. It was that mild discomfort that slowly made Nadya aware of herself, and of the memories that suffocated her even more than the heat itself.  
  
 _Captain Adrik Zharkov had been a personal favorite of Nadya's father. Not only was he the youngest man in the history of Nivengard to be appointed captain, he was also one of their bravest and most capable officers. A veteran of many battles at the age of twenty four, his only flaw had been to harbor the presumptuous notion that the tzar's favor would go as far as to allow him to marry a princess._  
  
Back in her chambers, Nadya crushed the petals with a spoon until she extracted the bright red sap -that gave the plant its name- and poured it into a small glass vial. She closed her eyes for a moment, and tried to dispel the visions those flowers carried within them.  
  
 _Adrik and Nadya had been together for almost two years, before a long delay on her courses finally forced them to confess their relationship to the tzar.  
  
Her father had listened patiently as the couple made their case. And, without losing his temper, had explained them that -although he understood their arguments- a princess like Nadya could not be married to a common soldier. Adrik needed to prove himself worthy.  
  
Lies. Nadya knew, from the look in her father's eyes, that the tzar was sending Adrik to his death._  
  
It wasn't hard to distract the servants long enough for Nadya to pour the extract into the teapot. Bloodflowers were only lethal for the unborn, both Logan and herself could drink it without a problem. No one would be the wiser.  
  
 _Just as she predicted, Adrik returned from his quest victorious but deadly injured. There was nothing anyone could do to save him. Nadya had begged her father to allow them to be married -even if it was on his deathbed- for the sake of the child she was carrying. The tzar did not answer._  
  
The princess of Nivengard got ready for breakfast in a trance-like state. The ghosts of her past had taken over her every thought. Their voices screaming in her head the reminders of her greatest sin.  
  
 _It had been Nadya's mother -may she be rotting in the void-, who made her understand that she had to think about Nivengard before herself, and that love was a peasant's privilege. Her own mother had patiently taught her how to make the bloodflower tea. She had guided a heart-broken Nadya through every single step. She had been right next to her, watching carefully as she drank it. And she had held Nadya later on, while she was bleeding out of her body the last precious remain of her love for Adrik._  
  
She couldn't look at Logan in the eye when they finally saw each other again. Breakfast was about to be served, and Lenna was late as usual.  
  
"Nadya..." His voice was low, almost apologetic. "...I had no idea that she was... It happened before you came here."  
  
Both unable and unwilling to think about Logan's part in the situation, Nadya did not answer. The anxiousness in his voice reminded her too much of...  
  
 _She had gone to see Adrik just before he died. Laying on his deathbed, he was but a shadow of the man she had loved. His face was pale and gaunt like... And the bandages across his midriff were covering a wound exactly the same as..._  
  
"Bad morning, everyone!" Lenna strutted into the dinning room with a smug smile on her face. She patted her, still flat, belly and winked at Nadya before saying out loud. "I would have been here earlier, but this morning sickness is just awful! Baby-hazzle I suppose. What do you think, Nad?"  
  
Nadya closed her eyes and took a deep breath.   
  
"Have some decency, Lenna, will you?" Logan reprimanded his sister.  
  
"Ugh! Such long faces!" The princess of Albion scoffed and poured herself some tea. "And, as usual, no servants to attend to us. Really, people, it makes me feel like someone just died."  
  
"I thought it would be in our best interest to keep this matter private." Logan answered drily.  
  
"They'll find out eventually, you know?" The princess of Albion sat down on the table, and placed the full cup on a small saucer in front of her. "It's not like we were going to lock our own child inside a tower, my love."  
  
"Lenna..." If Logan said anything else, Nadya did not notice. Her full attention was placed on Lenna, who was reaching for the cup once again. One sip, and there would be no more...  
  
 _Adrik had looked up at her, unable to speak, wondering with his eyes if the tzar had kept his word. Even if he was about to die, his expression was still full of hope. He had shifted his gaze from Nadya's face to her abdomen. And he had smiled._  
  
Lenna was sitting right next to her, still holding the teacup. Nadya clenched her fists so tight, that she could feel her nails digging into her skin.  
  
She turned to look at Logan. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn she saw Adrik himself, standing right behind her betrothed and staring right at her.  
  
"You betrayed me, Nadya." Adrik's ghost said. "You killed our legacy."  
  
Nadya closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths. Adrik was dead, and she wast just imagining him. But when she opened them again, the ghost was still there.  
  
"Will you do the same to him?" Adrik's ghost questioned her. "Is your love for this man as worthless as it was for me?"  
  
The princess of Nivengard felt a lump inside her throat. The memory of Adrik's last smile combined with the horror of watching herself bleeding in her mother's arms, urged Nadya to stand up and knock the teacup off Lenna's hands.  
  
"Do not drink it!" She cried out. "Whatever you do, do not take one sip of that tea!"  
  
"What?!" Lenna stood up from the table and took a step back. The front of her dress was all stained red.  
  
"Nadya?" Logan turned to look at her, as if expecting some kind of explanation.  
  
"I'm sorry." What could she possibly say to him? The scene should have been pretty obvious for anyone. "It was my duty..."  
  
"You were going to..." Lenna's eyes widened. "... You were going to kill my baby? You heartless piece of foreign trash!"  
  
"Contrary to what you think, Lenna, your child is not a blessing." Nadya straightened herself and turned to face her rival. "You are not safe, and I am not your biggest threat. I know my father will send assassins after you the moment he finds out."  
  
"Only the three of us know about Lenna's... circumstance." Logan raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you going to be the one who tells him, Nadya?"  
  
"Are you expecting me to lie to my father and to my king?" Nadya crossed her arms, finally able to look at him. "How am I supposed to explain my sudden return to Nivengard?"  
  
"Stay here." Logan said calmly."You can buy us some time, and..."  
  
"Absolutely not!" Lenna stomped her foot on the floor. "That woman is not spending another night in my castle! Let her go! If the tzar dares to threaten my baby..."  
  
"We are not going to war against Nivengard!" Logan stood up abruptly and looked at his sister. "Do you think their 'Invincible Army' bears that name for nothing? Nadya needs to stay, and we need to keep the news from reaching the tzar."  
  
"What do you propose?" Nadya crossed her arms, and gave Logan a questioning look.  
  
"We find a suitable father for... Lenna's child." He said, trying to appear calmed. "And we go ahead with the alliance."  
  
"Are you serious?!" Lenna cried out, enraged. "I will not be pushed aside as if I was your mistress! Either you man up and acknowledge our relationship, or I will tell everyone the kind of man you really are. And, considering your reputation, Logan, I know people will believe me."  
  
"It will never work." Nadya spoke with a steady voice, like someone driven only by logic. Although deep inside, she too wanted to assume a position like Lenna's and yell that she also wanted Logan all for herself. "Your sister is too much of a loose cannon. If I stay here, it will only lead to our deaths and the destruction of Albion. I have to go back to Nivengard and face my father."  
  
She looked at Logan. The happiness she had experienced in his arms the night before was just a distant memory. It pained her to admit it, but even if she stayed and married him, the truth was that he would always be Lenna's. The princess of Albion had won the battle, and there was nothing left to do.  
  
* * *  
  
Cold and efficient, not very different from the 'Invincible Soldiers' from her kingdom, Nadya prepared her departure in only a few hours.  
  
They bid their formal farewells to each other in the courtyard. To the eyes of those around them, Nadya's return to Nivengard was just another of their king's failures. Even if none of them had shown any kind of appreciation towards the foreign princess, her leaving served to confirm what they already thought. That Logan was indeed so repulsive, not even a Nivengardian could stand him.  
  
He watched Nadya's carriage disappear through the streets of Bowerstone. She had taken with her all his hope of getting an army strong enough to protect Albion from the darkness, and save its people from a certain death. On a personal level, he had also lost all hope of a better life.   
  
"Don't feel bad, sweetheart." Lenna walked to his side and placed a hand -that was both comforting and possessive- on his back. "You have lost nothing. You still have me."  
  
Once again, his whole world had been reduced to Lenna. Logan didn't know whether to dread or to cherish the familiar pressure of her lips on against his cheek.  
  
"Come with me." She whispered in his ear, and took a playful bite on his earlobe. "I'll take away all your sadness, and tomorrow you will not even remember she exists."  
  
He allowed her to take him back into their private wing, and prepare him a bath of boiling hot water. One of the many reasons why he kept coming back to Lenna -even if he hated her sometimes- was that she understood his deepest of needs. Pain. Logan felt the water burning against the outside of his body, equalizing the inner scorch of his neglected blood. A side-effect of his 'illness' probably, but he could only relax completely when his body was in distress.   
  
"Your skin is all red." Lenna sat on the edge of the bathtub. She too had discarded her clothes completely, and was just waiting for the water to cool down to a more bearable temperature before joining him. "You must be static."  
  
"I feel much better." He let out a sigh, and relaxed into the searing heat that surrounded him. "Thank you."  
  
Physical pain numbed his despair more effectively than any drug.   
  
"Did you love her?" Lenna asked plainly. He wondered just how many nights the doubt had kept her awake.  
  
He shrugged. Let her live with the doubt.  
  
In any case, Nadya was not the kind of woman who could be truly appreciated by love at first sight. She was far too beautiful. He had to overlook her appearance and get to know her before allowing himself to fall for her. In that case, the most honest answer to Lenna's question would have been 'Not yet'.  
  
"Well, I don't think she even liked you that much." Defensive, just like he expected her to be. Lenna dipped her finger into the water, testing it. She pulled it back. Still too hot for her. "I think she just wanted to be queen."  
  
"Lenna..." Logan sighed, and remembered Nadya's words, 'I don't believe in Heroes, I believe in you'. Maybe the princess of Nivengard had not loved him, but at least she had given him the benefit of doubt. "... Let's talk about something else."  
  
"I like that idea." She smiled, tested the waters once more, and finally slid into the bathtub until she was sitting on his lap. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him.  
  
"It won't be long before it starts to show." He said, tracing his fingers over her belly.  
  
"I can't wait." She smiled brightly. "Just to imagine, holding him -or her- for the first time... I really wish we could speed it up!"  
  
"You really want this, don't you?" He frowned slightly. With the darkness on their doorstep, it was hardly a good moment for Lenna to have a kid. And with such child being his, it would never be.  
  
"More than anything!" Her whole face lit up, and she continued. "If it's a girl, I'll be dressing us both in matching outfits, wouldn't that be lovely?"  
  
He sighed. Her joy was so genuine, that he dared not dampen her mood with the bitterness of reality.   
  
"I will get her tiny versions of all my dresses, and tiny shoes to match. Have you ever seen a baby's feet? They are the most adorable thing ever." Lenna leaned back against him, lost in her precious illusions. "We should name her Gwendi, because it's a really keen name -like Gwen-, but also very cute -like Wendy-, only with an 'I' instead of a 'y' because it's more original. What do you think?"  
  
He shook his head. Silly thing was already thinking about names, when there were so many things that could go wrong.  
  
"You don't like it, huh?" Lenna pouted her lips for a moment, but then said. "Well, what about 'Pastel'? It has a certain flare to it. Or maybe... Lopita?"  
  
"No." He indulged her, slowly falling into the haze of her happiness. "I don't want anything with an 'L'. We have to many of those in this family. Don't you think so, Lenna Leigh?"  
  
"Well, Logan Jacques..." She teased him, knowing he hated to bear his father's name almost as much as he had hated the man himself. "...What name do you suggest?"  
  
"Carmilla." The first name that came to his mind.  
  
"I can't believe you actually chose a name for her." Lenna turned to look at him. Her brown eyes filled with hope and adoration. "I though you didn't..."  
  
"Lenna, your child... our child... is very important to me. I want nothing more than to keep the both of you safe." He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled sadly. "That's why I need to send you away for a while."  
  
  
* * *  
  
The long trip back home had not been easy. Nadya spent most of her time thinking about Logan like a foolish girl, and of how much she wished things had turned out different for the both of them. But she had been very naive to assume she stood a chance against Lenna. The truth was both siblings were far too invested in each other for anyone to come between them.  
  
However, if Nadya had been far too innocent when she thought Logan and her could be together. She had been downright stupid to believe her family would welcome her back in Nivengard, after she had failed to secure the alliance.  
  
Her sisters had all given her reproachful looks for volunteering to marry a man capable of such indecency. And her brothers were demanding some sort of retribution for the offense Nadya had been subjected to.  
  
The most painful reception, nonetheless, had been that from her father. The tzar had ignored her for two whole days after he received the news. By the third, he had her summoned to the throne room.  
  
She stood there as straight and proud as she could, while feeling almost naked under the scrutiny of her father and his inner circle.  
  
At the center of it all, the tzar was sitting on his throne stern and cold, like the mechanical army that was Nivengard's pride and joy. Next to him was the empty seat her long dead mother had once occupied. And a few feet to his left in less ornate chairs, were her eldest brother, Vladimir, and his wife, princess Gabrielle of Finisterre. However, the person closest to the tzar was his advisor, a very tall man by the name of Grigory. He was not allowed to have a seat, on account that he wasn't royalty, but he stood behind Nadya's father like a shadow.  
  
"I believe you already know why I called you here." The tzar's voice was deep and slow, like the echo in a dark cave. "Is there anything you have to say in your defense?"  
  
"Lenna was already pregnant by the time I arrived." She  did her best to conceal her anguish. "There was nothing I could have done."  
  
The look on her father's eyes went right through her. Both of them knew she was lying.  
  
"I couldn't do it, father!" Her voice broke under the strength of the tzar's gaze. "It's Logan's child..."  
  
"Whatever is inside princess Lenna is not yet a child." Grigory interrupted her. His voice was smooth and clear, laced with the faintest hint of amusement. "You would know that, wouldn't you?"  
  
She closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She should have expected them to use what happened with Adrik as an argument. After all, she had been more than capable to kill her own child back then.  
  
"I couldn't do it..." She whispered. "...Not after knowing how it feels like."  
  
"Your actions -or lack of- made our family look weak." Vladimir narrowed his eyes. "We cannot allow Albion to disrespect us..."  
  
"Albion has not yet insulted us." The tzar silenced his son. "As long as Logan doesn't publicly acknowledge the child as his own."  
  
"Royal men often have more than their share of bastards." Gabrielle said with a smirk. "As you may very well know, Vladimir."  
  
Both princesses exchanged a look of complicity. Men like Vladimir could get away with all sorts of indiscretions.  
  
"Lenna's child might not be a threat." Gabrielle interceded on Nadya's behalf. "It is well known that the firstborn child of a Hero never manifests any powers. Logan for example..."  
  
"Logan is not the first child of King Jacques. He is the fourth." Grigory corrected them. "The firstborn was a girl by the name of Rose. She was murdered many years ago, along with her mother and the second child."  
  
"What happened to the third?" Gabrielle asked.  
  
"Lost in time." Grigory stiffened a bit at the mention of King Jacques' third child.  
  
"We are straying off topic." The tzar stated, and turned his attention towards Nadya. "You have failed to fulfill your mission, and uphold your duties. For that, you will be punished."  
  
"I understand, father." She vowed her head.  
  
"Since you seem to be unable to stand up to your potential sister-in-law." Her father said solemnly. "Maybe your place is to be the maid of your current one. Starting now, Nadya, you are demoted from your status as family, and appointed to serve as princess Gabrielle's personal servant. You are forbidden to address any of your brothers and sisters as if they were your equals -because they are not-, and you will live downstairs with the rest of the staff -because that's where you belong-. And, until further notice, you will not be allowed in my presence, for I cannot bear to look at you right now."  
  
* * *  
In the middle of the night, when the only sound was that of the waves crashing against the Finisterran shoreline, Lenna was having a restless sleep. She had reluctantly agreed to Logan's request to send her away from Albion, only because she feared for her baby. She knew the tzar could was not a man to be crossed.  
  
Ever since she could remember, Lenna always had the same recurring nightmare. She was pushed against a wall, and a man's enormous hand closed tightly around her neck. She could see his yellow eyes, and a tangled mass of long golden hair falling around his face. All she could do was struggle and gasp for air.  
  
This time it was much worse. While the giant was holding her in his tight grip, the princess of Albion looked down and saw the blood staining her white nightgown. She could feel the life inside of her extinguishing, while she struggled to even breath. The giant's face -one she could never remember in the morning- contorted into a sinister grin.  
  
She woke up, covered in sweat. Her heart was beating so fast, Lenna felt like she was about to die. Out of habit she reached out to the other side of the bed. Instead of Logan's body, she felt the soft fur of her dog Nouk. She let out a relieved sigh.  
  
The dog barked, in the way he had been trained to indicate Lenna was having a nervous episode. A crowd of maids and nurses ran into the princess room.  
  
"Your highness, are you alright?" One of the maids asked her, while the nurses examined her.  
  
"My baby..." Lenna felt overwhelmed to be surrounded and handled by so many strangers. Their smell was making her nauseous.  
  
"The baby is fine, your highness." Said the head nurse, her hands were cold against Lenna's abdomen."You were just having a nightmare. Would you like me to give you something to help you sleep?"  
  
Lenna let out a sigh of relief. She stroked Nouk's back, feeling the comfort of her dog's presence. "I need some air, can you please bring me some tea to the terrace?"  
  
The maid helped her stand up, and wrapped a fine silk robe around her. Lenna stepped out into a large private garden, that overlooked the ocean, and sat on a comfortable couch with Nouk curled at her feet.  
  
  
The Finisterran city of Charité -where she and Logan had spent some time together a few years prior- was famous for two things. The first one was its luxurious shoreline district, where people from all over the world gathered, and spent exorbitant amounts of gold, to enjoy the many upscale amenities it had to offer.   
  
The second one was the enormous building, that stood right in the middle of the town. 'The Abbey', as everyone called it, was the place where young women went whenever they needed to disappear for a while. Divided into several floors -where the lower one was little more than a prison and the higher level a little less than a palace-, The Abbey offered different kinds of accommodation depending on the occupant's position and, of course, the amount of gold they could pay.  
  
Because of her princess status -and Logan's considerable contributions-, Lenna had been given the best suite on the top floor. And since she couldn't speak a word of Finisterran, a full staff -fluent in the language of Albion- had been hired specially for her. She had her own private maids, nurses, a couple of physicians, and an interpreter for her social functions.   
  
According to their numbers, Lenna's stay was the third most expensive in four hundred years of history of The Abbey. The young princess was determined to break the record. Every day she found a new addition to her already large list of requirements.   
  
Her social agenda was also bursting. Everyday there was a whole new set of activities planned for the ladies of the top floor. Her favorite were the shopping trips, when they could wander around the city with male staff posing as their partners. Lenna had already gotten herself a full collection of new gowns, some jewelry, and the most exquisite variety of shoes.  
  
She could easily be having the time of her life. If only Logan was there with her.  
  
* * *  
Back in Albion, things were not going well. With the loss of the alliance, Logan had been forced to rely on the kingdom's resources to build an army strong enough to protect it. However, the people around him -who didn't believe a word he said- saw the new raise in taxes like another proof that their king had lost his mind to power, and was well on his way to become a tyrant.  
  
Some of them even suggested Logan should use his own personal wealth to finance his endeavor. However, they did not know that all his gold was already being used to cover Lenna's expenses, which were more than considerable. Between her shopping, and the outrageous increase of her demands -all for the good of their child, she claimed-, Logan's personal finances were hemorrhaging cash.  
  
The large amount of stress was taking its toll on Logan's health. His body was burning with pain most days, and not the good, relaxing, kind. He had stopped wearing the crown, because the weight of it on his head caused him to start bleeding from the nose and mouth. According to Dr. Winton, Logan's current pace would send the young king to the grave in less than two years.   
  
If that wasn't enough, the story they had made up to cover Lenna's sudden departure -that she had gone to study abroad-, brought an unexpected problem to Logan's attention.  
  
"Your majesty, we have been suffering a significant drop in the enrollment." Samuel, representative of Brightwall Academy, had requested an audience just to discuss the situation. "The more affluent families of Albion -on whose voluntary contributions we rely- are turning their backs on our institution. They have taken the princess example, and are sending their offspring away to be educated overseas. Maybe, if you were to bring her back and have her endorse the quality of our academy... And instead of paying for her tuition in Finisterre, use that gold to make a contribution to our..."  
  
"Out of the question." Logan said firmly.   
  
"With all due respect, your majesty. Your father created Brightwall Academy to instruct the future leaders of Albion, in hopes that someday his own children..." Samuel began his passionate speech, only to be brusquely interrupted.  
  
"The only reason my father opened that... thing..." Logan rolled his eyes. "... was because he wanted to impress my mother. He never cared much for education. The man could barely read!"  
  
The throne room went completely silent, and horrified looks fell on the king. How dared he speak ill of the great Hero of Bowerstone?  
  
"For many years, Brightwall Academy has fostered Albion's greatest academics and artists." Samuel stood straight and spoke as loud as he could without sounding too defensive. "We are the core of everything that constitutes our kingdom's intellectual society."  
  
"Last year you requested half a million gold in order to fund your... what did you call it? Oh, yes, your 'Collective Masterpiece'." Logan leaned forward, and looked straight into the man's eyes. "The project turned out to be nothing but empty liquor bottles hanging from the trees, am I wrong?"  
  
"It's called an 'installation'." Samuel defended it. "And it's one of the most avant-garde proposals of modern art."  
  
"For the purpose of your 'installation', Brightwall Academy ordered several crates of bottles, that were at the time very full of wine and other spirits." Logan furrowed his brow. He could taste blood in his mouth. "It looked to me as an excuse to get drunk at the crown's expenses."  
  
"The muses can be whimsical, your majesty." Samuel took a step back. "Sometimes a bit of inspiration is required... But you cannot deny our brilliant contribution to the interpretative arts!"  
  
"You mean that 'acting troupe'?" Logan raised an eyebrow. The back of his eyes were throbbing with pain.   
  
"Lambert and Pinch, our greatest thespians!" Samuel smiled proudly. "They offer the most wonderful performance our glorious kingdom has ever seen."  
  
"Three hours of nothing but sexual innuendos and dirty jokes are hardly a form of art." Logan rubbed his temples, trying in vain to numb his migraine a little.  
  
"I must admit their humor may be a bit too... complex." The man crossed his arms defiantly. "Specially to someone unfamiliar with the arts of the stage."  
  
"My mother was a prima ballerina in Finisterre. Believe me, I know what real culture looks like." Logan's vision was starting to get blurry. He needed to end that meeting as soon as possible.  
  
"It's exactly that kind of foreign influence what's causing so much trouble!" Samuel cried out. "If our own king cannot appreciate Albion's culture, there is no point for our prestigious academy to stay open. Avo knows..."  
  
"I couldn't agree more." Logan stated firmly. "As of today, by royal decree, Brightwall Academy is closed. Now, if you'll excuse me."  
  
Among the outraged clamor of the people, Logan stormed out of the throne room and into a private chamber. He got there just in the nick of time, right before the blood began pouring out his nose and mouth. He locked the door and, unable to walk to the nearest couch, fell unconscious on the floor.  
  
* * *  
  
Between the lack of practice, and the freezing cold weather, Nadya's once flawless hands were starting to blister from all the hard labor. She felt tiny needles of pain on her fingers, while she scrubbed Gabrielle's stockings in the early morning.  
  
At first, her sister-in-law had tried to go easy on her. However, the tzar pressured Gabrielle into giving Nadya the harshest of treatments. And, even if she was her best friend, the Finisterran princess knew better than to upset the ruler of Nivengard. Nadya did not blame her. She just endured her punishment, as quiet and stoic as she thought Logan would be.  
  
Despite it being the origin of all her trouble, Nadya's love and admiration for the king of Albion remained strong. He was her inspiration. When her knuckles -chaffed and burnt from the soap and cold water- stung like knives, she thought of Logan enduring long hours of audiences through the pain of his illness. When the reproachful looks from the court fell upon her disgraced figure, her mind went to her beloved, who was trying to save his kingdom despite of all the people who thought he was delusional. And every night, in the cold austerity of the servants' quarters, Nadya fell asleep to the memory of the brief moments she had spent in Logan's arms.  
  
"Aren't you the sweetest tragedy?" A smooth voice distracted from her washing.  
  
"Master Grigory." She turned to face her father's advisor and curtsied politely. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"  
  
Nadya always experienced a sense of unease whenever she looked at Grigory. The man was taller than Logan, almost as big as King Jacques himself. His skin was very pale and clear, like Albion's royalty. With his long ash-brown hair, hazel eyes, and sharp cheekbones, he would have been the prefect image of a Hero. However, there was something sinister about him.  
  
"Actually, my dear, I came here to talk about what I can do for you." He stroked her face with his long, sharp nails. "Or, more likely, what I can do for your dearest Logan."  
  
"I don't... " Nadya took a step back, instinctively wrapping her arms around her body. "... I don't need anything from you, Master Grigory."  
  
"I have no interest in forcing myself on you, if that's what you're thinking." Grigory smirked. "Tell me, Nadya, did you enjoy the little visitor I sent your way?"  
  
She stiffened and a thin layer of cold sweat formed in the back of her neck.   
  
There was a reason why the tzar held Grigory in such high esteem. The man had a strange connection  with the dead. In a more superstitious place, he would have been called a necromancer.   
  
"Adrik... It was you who sent his ghost to haunt me!" Nadya whispered the name of the man she had once loved. The ghost that urged to spare Lenna's child. "... but... How could you know Lenna was pregnant?!"  
  
"Friends on the other side, girl." Grigory smiled at her. "A maid by the name of Marietta hung herself in Bowerstone Castle eighteen years ago. Don't believe me? Ask Logan. She told me all about the royal siblings, and what they do when no one's watching. She told me a spark of life had been ignited inside the princess' body."  
  
"Why did you send Adrik to me?" Nadya furrowed her brow. "Why did you have to stop me?"  
  
"I did none of the sort." Grigory smirked. "I do not command the dead, I merely talk to them. I may have told the spirit of our dearly departed Adrik where to find you. My only intention was for him to see you could be happy with another man. Whatever transpired between the both of you is none of my business."  
  
"What do you want from me, Grigory?" She asked.  
  
"Whatever happened to 'Master Grigory'? I thought you were a servant now." He chuckled. "In any case, you and I share a common interest. Neither of us wants to see Albion destroyed."  
  
"What's Albion to you?" Nadya tilted her head, wondering.  
  
"Albion is my homeland." Grigory tapped his long fingernails against his chest. "You may not know this, but I was born in Bloodstone. My mother brought me to Nivengard when I was a boy."  
  
"Really?" She shook her head. "I don't believe you."  
  
"I'm not lying. She fled Albion after my father beat the living crap out of us" Grigory spoke very lightly of it. "She was the kind of woman, who only allowed a man to hit her once."  
  
"And what happened to your father?" Nadya smirked, not buying a single word of his story.  
  
"He became king, of course." Grigory grinned.  
  
"Liar." Nadya scoffed. "In any case, I'm no position to be of help to you, or to anyone. Unless you require for me to wash your dirty laundry, that is."  
  
"Tempting offer. But I beg to differ." The man looked into her eyes. "I need you to send a message to Logan. There is some information I believe will be of use to him."  
  
"What kind of information?" She asked.  
  
"A long time ago, there was a man from Albion involved in the construction of the 'Invincible Soldiers'." Grigory's tone had gone completely serious. "His name is Ernst Faraday. You tell that to Logan, see what he can do."  
  
"That's treason." Nadya gasped and took a step back. "Are you really asking me to betray my kingdom?"  
  
"I'm offering help. Don't want it, don't take it." Grigory shrugged. He moved closer to her, and traced a long fingernail across Nadya's cheek. " In other business, your father has appointed me with the task of dealing with Lenna's child. I thought you'd want to know."  
  
"Are you going to kill it?" Nadya flinched away from the man's touch.  
  
Grigory did not answer.  
  
* * *  
  
A crowd of women was gathered around Lenna. After a few months in The Abbey, the princess of Albion had become a celebrity of sorts. Her acute sense of smell allowed her to predict the gender of the unborn children, and now everyone wanted to be her best friend.  
  
"A boy." She said to the interpreter, after smelling the Baronne des Lapins. "It's a boy"  
  
"C'est un petit garçon." The interpreter said, and the Baronne clapped her hands with excitement. The other girls cheered and clapped.  
  
Lenna placed a hand on her own belly. She was already six months into her pregnancy and her little Karmilla was a restless one. Lenna had lost the count of how many times she had experienced the unique sensation of a tiny foot between her ribs. It was amazing.  
  
"Your highness!" One of her maids called, as she made her way through the crowd of women that surrounded the princess. "You have a visitor!"  
  
Lenna's mouth went suddenly dry, and her heartbeat accelerated. There was only one person in the whole world, who knew where she was hiding.   
  
"Take me to him, quickly!" She stood up abruptly and straightened herself.   
  
"He's a soldier, your highness." The maid clarified. "He says he brings a message from your brother."  
  
"I see..." Lenna slowed her pace, and all of her previous excitement faded into nothing. How could she be so fool as to expect Logan himself to go visit her?   
  
She dragged her feet back into her room. From the hallway, she could distinguish the outline of one of her brother's new elite soldiers. Lenna sighed, wondering what could be so urgent that Logan had to send one of his men to see her, but not enough that he had to go himself.   
  
The first thing the princess noticed, when she entered her chambers, was the very distinctive smell of the man who was waiting for her.   
  
"Get out!" She commanded the maid in a whisper. Her visitor had not yet seen her, and she intended to surprise him. "And no one is to enter my room until further notice."  
  
"As you wish, your highness." One of The Abbey's staff many virtues was their ability to know when discretion was needed. The servant girl didn't even question why her mistress would ask to be left alone with a soldier. She simply curtsied and left.  
  
Lenna walked into the sitting room, where he was waiting for her. He had his back to the door, and was staring out the window. She bit her lip, just taking in the sight of him.   
  
"Logan." She finally said. "I missed you so much!"  
  
He took off the convoluted headgear and turned to face her. He was only a silhouette against the light coming from the window "Lenna, you're huge."  
  
"Are you for real?" She pouted. "We haven't seen each other in four months, and that's all you say to me?"  
  
Logan took a step closer, and Lenna was finally able to see his face. He looked paler, thinner than usual, and the circles under his eyes had taken a deep red color. Lenna placed her hand over her mouth and gasped.  
  
"Logan, you look terrible!" She cried out in dismay. "What happened to...?"  
  
He crossed the distance between them, and silenced her with a deep kiss. Lenna melted into it, eager to feel her beloved’s lips on hers after such a long time.  
  
"I needed to see you." Logan whispered when they parted.   
  
"I needed to see you too." She answered, and pulled him into another kiss.  
  
Their usual game -in which they raced each other into the bedroom while discarding pieces of clothing along the way- proved to be a lot more difficult to play now that Lenna was carrying the extra weight of a child inside her body. For the first time in years, it was Logan who sat on the bed completely naked, while waiting for her to join him. She hated to lose, but at the same time, loved the way he stared in awe at her new figure.  
  
"Are you sure we can...?" He asked with a bit of concern.   
  
"Of course!" Lenna sat on the bed next to him and smiled. "Many of the girls in here receive visits from their beaus regularly. They say it's perfectly fine."  
  
He tilted his head, and placed his hand on her belly.  
  
"Just my luck!" Lenna sighed. "Karmilla kicks and turns all the time when we're alone. And now that you can finally feel her, she decides to hold still. She's spiting me even before her birth!"  
  
"You chose the name I suggested." He said, and gently caressed her midriff. "Carmilla."  
  
"Yes, but spelled with a 'K' instead of a 'C'." Lenna leaned back on the bed. "I wanted to give it a personal touch."  
  
Logan kissed her once more. And, after a few changes in position, they were finally able to enjoy each other without reservations.   
  
Later that night, Lenna was awaken from her sleep by Karmilla's motions. She opened her eyes, and saw Logan leaning over her. His hand and face were resting on top of her belly, as if he was trying to both listen and feel his child inside of Lenna.  
  
"I told you." The princess' voice was still heavy with slumber. She stroked Logan's hair gently. "Your daughter is restless, just like you."  
  
"My daughter." Logan looked up at her, his eyes widening in sudden realization. "She is my daughter... Oh, Lenna, what are we going to do with her?  
  
"We wait until she's born, and then shake her whenever she's trying to sleep." Lenna stretched and yawned. "See if she likes it."  
  
"She cannot stay in Albion." Logan furrowed his brow. He touched Lenna's belly, and his hand was cold and trembling. " She will be the next in line for the crown. If the evil that's coming to Albion kills me..."  
  
"Don't say such nonsense!" Lenna scolded him. "There is no threat, darling. It's all in your head."  
  
"Even if the threat wasn't real," Logan sighed. "My illness is advancing. I don't think I'll ever have another child. Karmilla is my only heiress."  
  
"Does that mean..." Now it was Lenna who trembled with anticipation. "... that you're going to acknowledge her?"  
  
"In two years time, if we survive what's coming." Logan nodded softly. "I have given all I have to Albion, but I refuse to be an 'uncle' for my own child."  
  
"But nothing will happen! It's only your mind playing tricks on you." Lenna protested.  
  
"If that was the case, then all you have to do is wait. In a couple of years I will come clean about us, and about our child." He looked straight into her eyes. "But until then, both Karmilla and yourself must stay here in Finisterre."  
  
"Will I be queen, then?" Lenna's hands were covered by a thin layer of sweat. Finally, a chance for her dreams to come true. "Do you promise?"  
  
"I give you my word." Logan held her hand in his. "Whatever happens, in two years time, you will be queen of Albion."  
  
* * *  
* * *  
  
At midnight, Nivengard's palace was almost as quiet as a graveyard. The tzar kept his household under a strict curfew; once the lights were out, no member of the royal family was allowed to be outside their chambers or to make any disturbing noise. Nadya found it rather unusual that Gabrielle required her services at such late hour.  
  
The former princess of Nivengard was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. She wondered if the tzar had commanded her sister-in-law to keep Nadya awake at night, to increase the effectiveness of the punishment. Nadya had neither seen, nor spoken to her father in months; but rumors always find their way inside a palace. She had heard the tzar's frustration was growing every day because -despite what he had done to her- Nadya refused to yield and beg for his mercy. No, the former princess remained stoic, quiet and unbreakable.   
  
Nadya let out a sigh, and entered Gabrielle's bedroom. She was a bit surprised to find both her and Vladimir waiting for her with grim looks on their faces.  
  
"Your royal highness. My lady." Nadya addressed them and curtsied as she was supposed to.   
  
"Drop the act!" Her brother Vladimir spoke in a whisper. "And keep your voice down."  
  
"Is there something wrong?" She asked, somehow relieved to finally be ale to talk to her family. "Please, don't tell me father is dead."  
  
"Something wrong? You dare to ask me if there is something wrong?" Vladimir was doing his best not to yell at her. "Look at me, Nadya. Look at me and tell me, what do you see?"  
  
"Oh, please!" Gabrielle complained in a voice so low it was almost surreal. "We don't have time for this, husband!"  
  
"Let me, woman! I have kept my mouth shut for months. But this time..." He shook his head at Gabrielle and then turned his attention back to Nadya. "Now you, tell me what you see!"  
  
"I see you, Vladimir." Nadya squinted her eyes, wondering if something had changed in her brother. You are the tsezarevich of Nivengard, and one day you will be tzar."  
  
"Anything else?" A vein was throbbing in Vladimir's forehead.  
  
"Well, you are also my brother." She answered  
  
"And tell me, sister, in all these years you and I have known each other. Have you ever had any sort of... impure thought about me? Or about our other brother, Dimitri?" Vladimir asked, his eyes fixed on Nadya's.  
  
"Of course not!" Nadya took a step back, mildly outraged at Vladimir's suggestion. "You are my blood!"  
  
"And we all know laying with our own blood is wrong, don't we?" Vladimir took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check. "So tell me, dear Nadya, why would you commit treason for a man, who can be as debauched and loathsome, as to impregnate his own sister?"  
  
"Don't be so self-righteous, Vlad. It doesn't suit you." Gabrielle interceded. "Besides most of the world's royal families are related among them one way or another. For all practical purposes, we are all bedding among cousins."  
  
"Treason?" Nadya clenched her fists. Someone must have caught her letter to Logan.   
  
"Grigory told our father everything." Vladimir sighed, his tone changing from angry to just worried. "He intercepted your correspondence with Logan, as well as the schematics you were trying to send him."  
  
Schematics? Nadya widened her eyes. Grigory had not only betrayed her, but he was also throwing in some false accusations.   
  
"Where is Grigory? I need to talk to him." After what happened with Adrik's ghost, and this sudden turn of events, Nadya wondered what kind of grudge her father's advisor could be holding against her.  
"He left for Finisterre a few hours ago, as soon as the meeting ended." Gabrielle answered, she exchanged looks with her husband. "Is he lying, Nadya? Are you innocent?"  
  
"Please, tell me he's lying!" Vladimir held both of Nadya's hands in his. "I will have him killed for slandering my sister!"  
  
"I told you she was not capable." Gabrielle sighed with relief. "Our Nadya is too smart to be handing out technological secrets to a foreign king."  
  
"But I'm not completely innocent." Nadya looked at the couple and sighed. Maybe Grigory was exaggerating the charges, but she had indeed shared confidential information with the king of Albion. She was not going to lie. "I told Logan about Ernst Faraday."  
  
Vladimir and Gabrielle looked at each other again.   
  
"We have no idea who that is." Her sister-in-law answered.  
  
"Supposedly a man from Albion, who was involved in the construction of a part of the 'Invincible Army'." Nadya explained. "I don't really know the extent of his involvement. I only sent Logan the letter because Grigory told me it could be of help."  
  
"He might have given you the information, even told you to write the letter. But in the end it was you who chose to send it. Treason is treason." Vladimir looked down, and let out a heavy sigh. "Why, Nadya?"  
  
"Because I don't want Albion to be destroyed." She answered. "And because I'm in love with Logan."  
  
"Our father will have you executed for this." Vladimir looked at his sister, with eyes full of concern. "But you don't have to worry. My wife and I will get you out of here."  
  
"My brother Philippe will help you stay hidden in Finisterre." Gabrielle nodded eagerly. "And once Vladimir becomes tzar, you will be able to come back."  
  
Nadya smiled with a bitter sweet sense of joy. She had always known Vladimir and his wife could hardly stand each other. They had been married because it was convenient for Nivengard to have a Finisterran tzarina. There was no real love between them. And yet, they had managed to work together as a team, just to try and help Nadya out of her predicament.  
  
"You will be great monarchs one day. And I appreciate what you're trying to do for me." She said, trying not to cry in front of them. "But I will not run away from my kingdom. I did what I had to do, and I will suffer the consequences."  
  
"Don't be a fool, Nadya!" Gabrielle protested.  
  
Vladimir understood. Running away was not the way of Nivengard.  
  
"Call the guards, Vlad." Nadya looked at her brother and smiled. "I'm sure father will appreciate that it was you who had me arrested."  
  
"Are you sure?" He asked.   
  
"Yes." She answered.  
  
That night, among the horrified looks of her other siblings and the cold silence of the tzar, Nadya was taken down to her own palace's dungeons.   
  
* * *  
All the renewed energy and determination that Logan brought back from hist time with Lenna, were dead and gone in less than two weeks. And before a month had passed, the young king's world was falling apart again.  
  
In bad need to blow out some steam, Logan found himself slashing through yet another wave of hollowmen. The sound of bones cracking like twigs with every blow of his sabre, numbed the raging screams of his own despair. He had been at it for hours, fighting horde after horde of hobbes, hollowmen, sand furies, and even the occasional balverine. The wheel kept on spinning, and Logan kept on fighting.   
  
"No offense, my dearest godsson, but you are defiling the purpose of my finest torture device." Reaver, his godsfather, sat on platform overlooking the arena. "Victims are supposed to be forced into this game, and fight to the death for the amusement of me and my guests. But if the king himself walks in voluntarily every time he needs to vent... There is a reason why this is called 'The Wheel of Misfortune' and not 'The Wheel of Royal Therapy', you know?"  
  
"In that case, you shouldn't have made it so... cathartic." Logan answered, and beheaded another hollowman with a single blow.  
  
"It's meant to be outrageous and shocking. Yet again, I am not to be blamed for your family's eccentricities." Reaver rose his hands in a dramatic gesture of dismay. "Won't you at least amuse me with the recounting of your disgraces? You know how much I like to rejoice in the misery of others."  
  
"Nadya sent me a letter" Logan dodged and at the attack of a skeletal creature wielding a sword.  
  
"Women trouble?" Reaver sighed. "So... pedestrian."  
  
"It was to tell me about Ernst Faraday's involvement in the construction of the 'Invincible Army'." Logan continued, while dexterously kicking another enemy to the ground. "So I paid the man a visit. Needless to say it did not go well."  
  
"Faraday and the Nivengardians?" Reaver stretched on his chair, and pulled the lever right next to it. "You must tell me everything over the next spin. Try not to get yourself killed by... Oh, never mind... it's only hobbes."  
  
Logan wiped the sweat from his forehead, and prepared himself for more battle. He just couldn't get enough of Reaver's wheel.  
  
While he hacked and slashed through a horde of hobbes. The king of Albion recounted the story of his ill encounter with Professor Faraday. Apparently the man who had helped build a whole army for a foreign kingdom, could not make one to save his own. Faraday had claimed over and over again that he  never intended to create instruments of death. However, when Logan had pointed out that most of the creations in Clockwork Island were in fact well equipped -and programed- for combat, Faraday had snapped and... well... the conversation grew heated, there was a bit of mutual name calling. Of course, the ever present mention to the sanctity of King Jacques, and how Logan was a dishonor to his memory, had been made. Eventually, Logan had lost his temper, accused Faraday of treason, and sent him to rot in The Keep -a prison that, although built and filled mostly by King Jacques himself, would always be blamed on Logan-.  
  
"...If only I had Lenna on my side." Logan concluded wistfully, a pile of dead hobbes laying at his feet. "She would have convinced Faraday to build us anything. All she needs to do is bat her pretty eyelashes."  
  
"You could have asked me instead." Reaver took a sip from his drink, completely aloof. "Faraday owes me his very existence. Do you really think he funded that glorious industry of his all on his own?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Logan asked, as he wiped the blood off his sabre.  
  
"Many years ago, when our good friend Ernst returned from Nivengard with his tail between his legs, and nothing but a head full of ideas -most of them stolen, I believe-." Reaver smirked. "He came to ask me -more like to beg me- for money to start up his business. He claimed he was going to bring industry to Albion. It seemed like an interesting venue to invest in, so I agreed."  
  
"Because you're such a generous man?" Logan raised an eyebrow.  
  
"That, and because I knew whatever Faraday could make out of his 'industry' would eventually be mine. There is a contract, you see. "Reaver explained. "In the event of Faraday's death all of his assets will be reverted to his financial partner. That would be me, of course."  
  
"He is not dead." Logan narrowed his eyes.  
  
"There is also a 'morality clause'. If he breaks the law, all of his assets... well, you get the idea." Reaver grinned and raised his glass. "Here's to the birth of Reaver Industries. Now tell me, your majesty, how big do you want your army?"  
  
"I..." Logan blinked back in surprise. He felt both relieved and troubled at the same time. "It needs to be as huge as Finisterre's, and as powerful as Nivengard's."  
  
"Anything else?" Reaver scoffed and shook his head. "You do realize such a herculean task will require a lot of manpower, don't you?"  
  
"Whatever it takes." Logan shrugged. "You name it."  
  
"Have you noticed Albion's younger generations seem to have a lot of free time in their hands?" Reaver grinned. "Maybe it's time to give them something to occupy themselves with."  
  
"Child labor? Really?" Logan crossed his arms. He should have known...  
  
"My dearest godsson, one thing we both like about yourself -although maybe you like it more- is just how different you are from your father. Jacques had the narrow vision most Heroes have -me being a brilliant exception-. He could only see things in black or white, good choice versus evil choice." Reaver explained. "Every industrialized kingdom in the world has, at some point, made use of their younger citizens in the name of progress. Even your beloved Nivengard."  
  
"People hate me so much already. They say I'm a tyrant." Logan rubbed his temples. "If I allow something like child labor... there will be riots."  
  
"Since when do you care about what the populace may think of you? And what good are those masked fellows of yours if not to silence those riots? "Reaver tapped his cane loudly on the floor. "Do you want the peasantry to love you? Then why don't you stop suppressing those powers of yours, and go kill critters for them?"  
  
Logan held his breath. He had never told a soul...  
  
"Surprised?" The man paced around the platform. "Jacques told me, you see? He was so proud when his little boy cast his first fireball, that he almost forgot to mention he had to strangle Lenna just to make it happen. An unknown and extremely rare disease? I think not. You have been negating what's in your blood for years, and it burns you from the inside. You cannot hide it from me Logan, you are a..."  
  
"Don't call me that!" Logan clenched his fists.  
  
"Then, please, stop acting like one." Reaver continued, paying no mind to the other man's distress. "You say child labor is wrong, But, weren't you made king at only eight years of age? You would not be asking for anything you didn't do yourself. Or do you really think screwing pieces in a factory is more difficult than ruling over a kingdom?"  
  
Logan lowered his gaze. He had always harbored some resentment towards Albion. Instead of being able to learn and become a man in his own time, Logan had been forced to grow up overnight, and expected to be wise enough to make the most difficult decisions. He had spent his youth chained to that awful chair, always thinking only about Albion, living his life for its people. And they still wanted more!  
  
"Your factories. You must have them reinforced. Make them strong enough to withstand the greatest battle you can imagine." Logan looked up and straight at Reaver's eyes. Yes, he was as mat at Albion as it was at him. That did not mean, however, that he was going to stop trying to protect its people. "If you want to have children working for you, you will be responsible for them. You will not let them starve to death. And, when the time comes, your factories must serve as shelters."  
  
"What if the great battle never comes?" Reaver asked with a hint of amusement.  
  
"Then I will be the mad king, who installed child labor." Logan answered grimly.   
  
  
  
* * *  
  
A loud scream of pain pierced the walls of The Abbey. Lenna had heard that giving birth was supposed to be painful, but she did not imagine just how much.   
  
The usual crowd of nurses ran to her aid. The head nurse stepped close to Lenna, and injected her with something she said would take the pain away. Meanwhile, the others started preparing her room for the delivery.  
  
Something was wrong. The drug they had given her was... not good. Lenna couldn't feel any pain, but her whole body was too numb, even her sense of smell had diminished. But her mind was clear.   
  
She saw her two regular physicians walk into the room. There was something else, a tall man she had never seen before. The lower half of his face was covered, just the same as the other doctors, but his eyes... Lenna felt her chest compressing with fear. The man's piercing gaze met with hers. He said something in Finisterran, and the head nurse injected Lenna one more time.   
  
The world became a blurred haze. She alternated in between consciousness and a dreamless slumber. She wished Logan could be there, protecting her and their child. For a moment she hated him. How could he be absent while she was giving birth to their daughter?   
  
Finally, after what could have been hours or minutes, Lenna heard the unmistakeable sound of a baby crying. She reached out for her daughter. She wanted to see her, to hold her... But they just gave her another shot. And everything became darkness.  
  
When Lenna opened her eyes again, the nurses and the doctors were all standing next to her bed, looking at her with grim expressions. The head nurse approached her with a small bundle in her arms.  
  
"I'm sorry, your highness." The woman said, and there were tears in the corners of her eyes. "Your daughter... she was not right. She died a few hours before you gave birth to her."  
  
Lenna narrowed her eyes. She could have sworn she heard her daughter crying. And the bundle they were showing her. It was close enough for Lenna to smell it, and even if her senses were numb, she could tell there was something wrong with its scent.  
  
"That's not my baby." She said, still too weak to put up more of a fight. "It doesn't smell like my blood."  
  
The nurse took a step back, and turned to look at the tall man in the corner. He shook his head, took the tiny corpse from the woman's arms, and approached Lenna himself.  
  
"I know it's hard to believe, your highness." His voice was smooth, he stroked Lenna's face with three long-nailed fingers. "But we did everything we could."  
  
Lenna's eyes filled with tears. She must have been mistaken the first time. The smell of her blood was definitely there. The scent that was only hers and Logan's... And of the tiny body, laying lifeless beside her.  
  
"Karmilla..." She cried out the name her daughter would have carried. "... My Karmilla... My baby..."   
  
"Her name is Karmilla..." The man whispered and nodded slightly. But Lenna couldn't care less about him.  
  
In fact, she no longer cared about anyone. Lenna's heart had shattered into a million pieces. All of her dreams, her illusions, everything was now gone. Her daughter was dead, and she might as well die with her.  
  
* * *  
  
The dungeons of Nivengard's palace were colder than Nadya could have imagined. Built from a special alloy, they were designed to keep the prisoners always on the verge of hypothermia. Such were the cruel ways of the tzar.  
  
The former princess was curled up in a corner of her tiny cell, doing her best to keep her body warm. She was still dressed in the simple gown of a maid, something rather light meant to be used indoors. Nadya wrapped her arms tightly around her body, and watched the white steam of her own breath. If I ever make it back to Albion, she thought, I'll never complain about the heat ever again.  
  
She did not hear the footsteps approaching him, and she did not notice the man standing outside her cell until he tossed her his cape.  
  
Nadya looked up the moment she felt the heavy fabric landing right in front of her. It was a heavy mantle, meant for long travels. And it was large enough to cover her like a blanket. Like any good Nivengardian garment, it was lined with fur on the inside. It would have been a pleasure to wrap herself in it.   
  
She tossed it back to its owner.  
  
"I don't want anything from you." Nadya gave her visitor the briefest of glances. "Grigory."  
  
"You'll freeze to death, my dear." He answered, not even bothering to pick up the cloak as it laid crumpled on the dungeon's floor.   
  
"Be it the cold of the fire-squad, I'm already dead." Nadya answered, little puffs of steamy white breath accompanying her every word."I should have known better than to trust in you."  
  
"Yes, I set you up." Grigory tapped his long nails against the bars of her cell. "For your information, Faraday doesn't know anything of real importance. He was just a... diversion."  
  
"So I'm going to die for nothing?" Nadya cursed her own foolishness. Why did she allow her feelings to get in the way of her reasoning?  
  
"Not exactly." He explained. "I mean, there is absolutely no way Albion will ever be able to replicate the 'Invincible Soldiers', if anything because they don't have the metals. But they do have something, care to know what that is?"  
  
"No." She wrapped her arms around herself as tight as she could. The sight of Grigory's cape laying on the ground was a very tempting one. "But you will tell me all the same."  
  
"Heroes, Nadya. Or at least potential ones." Grigory smirked and kicked the heavy fabric a little bit towards her. "I don't believe Logan is entirely powerless, you see? And Lenna, well, she might as well be a Heroine herself. In any case, they need a little push. Do you know what's the best way to make a Hero exhibit their powers?"  
  
"Don't you have anything better to do?" Nadya sighed with frustration.   
  
"You make them suffer. And I mean great distress." The man continued, paying no mind to whether or not she was listening. "The Hero of Oakvale manifested his after some bandits raided his village and murdered his family. King Jacques himself revealed them when his sister, Rose, was murdered. Maybe if we dingle your life in front of him, Logan will ignite a little spark of his own. Who knows, he might even try to rescue his beloved princess?"  
  
"Using me as bait will get you nowhere." Nadya shook her head, and then sighed. Back when she was still in Albion, Logan had implied in one of their conversations that he had in a way refused his father's powers. "Logan may never become a Hero."  
  
Besides, she thought sadly, I am not that important to him.  
  
"In that case, there is always Lenna." Grigory answered without even worrying, and then grinned. "Did you hear about her daughter?"  
  
Nadya widened her eyes, and turned to look straight at Grigory. "What happened?"  
  
"According to the official records," He looked at her grimly. "She was stillborn."  
  
The former princess buried her head in her arms. All that suffering for nothing. It would have been so much better for everyone if only Lenna had drunk the bloodflower tea.  
  
"You murdered her." She finally said, her voice filled with anger and hatred both at Grigory and at herself.  
  
* * *  
  
Two male orderlies had to be summoned just to restrain Lenna. She was raging, and tearing apart her suite at The Abbey.  Even Nouk, her faithful dog, had gone to hide under the bed.   
  
She wanted to shatter the world around her into tiny pieces. She wanted to smash all the fancy vases and ornaments that surrounded her, so they too would turn to dust. Her Karmilla was dead, gone before she even had the chance to live. Why should her room still be beautiful? How could everything go on like nothing had happened? The sun had no right to be shinning, the grass from her garden should have wilted, and every flower in it died along with her child.   
  
If only she could, Lenna would have given everything -even her own life- to bring Karmilla back from the netherworld.   
  
The two men approached her carefully. She felt her blood igniting with something she could not explain. Without even giving them a second look, Lenna sent the both of them flying across the room.  
  
* * *  
  
"I told your father I killed the child" Grigory's voice was calmed and smooth. Nadya wanted to cover her ears, so that she wouldn't have to listen. "He was... pleased."  
  
"Why are you telling me this?" She looked at him, a lump had formed in her throat. Logan's daughter was dead, murdered in the name of Nivengard. "Why do you insist on tormenting me?!"  
  
"I am not here to torment you, stupid girl." He lowered himself to the ground, and reached for the cloak once more. This time he openly offered it to Nadya. "I'm here to tell the truth to only you. Nobody else will know about this."  
  
Her gray eyes met his hazel ones.  
  
"Lenna's daughter, Karmilla, is alive." Grigory spoke in a very low voice. He reached into her cell, and draped his cape over her shoulders. "Do with that information as you will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, chapter three will be up soon.


	3. Interlude I: The Giant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of the night that forevermarked the lives of Logan and Lenna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS IS BY FAR ONE OF THE STRONGESTS CHAPTERS IN THE WHOLE SAGA. IT CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, EATING DISSORDERS, AND VIOLENCE BOTH PSYCHOLOGICAL AND PHYSICAL TOWARDS VERY YOUNG CHILDREN. IF ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS UPSETS YOU, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM READING!!!

 

 

About twenty years before the revolution.

 

"Some day, mon trésor..." Although Queen Anna was fluent in the tongue of Albion, she always kept the habit of mixing the occasional few words from her native Finisterran. It was one of the many antics she used to spite her detractors, those who hated her for no other reason than being a foreigner. A former prima-ballerina, she had a special kind of love for everything dramatic. She liked to provoke emotions in people, even if they were of the negative kind. "Some day, all this kingdom will be yours. I trust you will be the one to make it grow into something... civilized."

 

Logan, who was only seven years old at the time, looked up at the delicate, almost ethereal figure of his mother. He was still too young to understand the implications of her words, but still acted as if he did. In his eyes, she was perfection incarnated, and he wanted nothing more than to please her.

 

"That should be many years from now." She smiled softly at him, and stroked his face. Her hands were cold and bony. "But you will be king one day, mon beau. And, as such, you will be the most important man in all of Albion. Now, your father is a powerful man, but he is just too primitive. He must be..."

 

"Moooooommy!" A tiny voice cried out from behind them. "Look at me, mommy! I can jump this high and I can..."

 

"Marrietta!" Queen Anna called out to one of her maids, without even bothering to look at her daughter. "Take care of the princess, s'il vous plait."

 

Logan turned his head back and smiled at his little sister. Lenna was balancing on the edge of one of the courtyard's stairway-rails. In her ruffled dress, she looked like a porcelain doll, meant to be sitting inside the castle instead of jumping around. He couldn't help but laugh a little bit when she fell on her bottom and the many ruffles of her dress went over her head. His amusement was short-lived, however, for the moment Lenna started crying, Logan's first impulse was to run to her aid.

 

"Let her be!" The queen's thin hand on his shoulder stopped him. "That's what the staff is for."

 

"But..." He tried to protest, unable to resist his sister's tears.

 

"This is important, Logan." Queen Anna reprimanded him, while the maids tried desperately to appease the princess. "We are talking about the future of your kingdom, est-ce que tu comprendre?"

 

"Oui, mama. Je comprends.." Logan was not the kind of child who knew how to charm an adult with only a sweet look. He had to rely on different techniques. And, when it came to his mother, nothing worked like speaking in her own language.

 

"Mon trésor, you are far too kind for your own good." The queen's stern expression softened a bit. She looked around the courtyard, and tilted her head as in deep thought. "See that poor man over there?" She held Logan's face and gently turned him to look towards the castle's gates.

 

There was a beggar sitting on the steps, across the street from a fruit stall. He was neither too old, nor too young, and did not appear to be sick. Actually, compared to Queen Anna, he looked rather plump. He was just there, asking whomever happened to walk by if they could spare some food or money for him, occasionally turning to look at the fruit stall with hungry eyes. The vendor did her best to ignore the beggar's glances, although Logan could tell, from the way she tried to stay as far from him as possible, that the pauper was making her uncomfortable.

 

"Now, why don't you order one of our servants to give him something to eat?" Queen Anna suggested, not taking her eyes off the scene unfolding right outside the castle's gate.

 

"Chauncey." Logan addressed one of their assistants. "Go to the kitchen and give that man a loaf of bread..." He turned to look at his mother and added "S'il vous plait."

 

"Right away, your royal highness." The man bowed and ran into the castle.

 

The beggar's face lit up with joy when he was presented with one of the fanciest baked goods in all of Albion. He devoured it, only looking up from his meal to smile at Queen Anna and her son.

 

"Would you say, mon trésor, that you improved that man's life?" The queen nodded her head slightly at the pauper.

 

Logan narrowed his eyes, and studied the scene. The beggar, who was no longer hungry, had lost all interest on the fruit stall. The vendor, visibly relieved, went back to her business a lot more confident than before.

 

"No, I did not." The young prince answered, after a moment of consideration.

 

"Care to elaborate, mon coeur?" Queen Anna's clear blue eyes gleamed with curiosity and appreciation.

 

"Tomorrow, he will be hungry again." Logan explained. "And he will come back, and trouble the lady selling the fruit across the street again."

 

"Shouldn't she give him some of her apples? She has so many, after all." The queen insisted, but her smile broadened.

 

"Then what will she sell?" Logan furrowed his brow. "Besides, he has done nothing for her, why would she want to give him any of her goods? Maybe if he was to help her somehow..."

 

"Work, you mean?" His mother nodded softly. "But what if he can't be of help? Should he just starve?"

 

"Can we feed all the beggars in Bowerstone?" The young prince looked at the queen. "How about all the beggars in Albion? Do you think we can feed them all as well? Can father fix their lives, so that they don't have to beg anymore?"

 

"Oh, mon beau!" Queen Anna sighed. "Your father can't fix anything that doesn't involve slaying critters. His powers are worthless when it comes to politics."

 

"So, there will always be beggars." Logan answered.

 

"Most likely, yes. Poverty is a constant, and there is no solution." His mother smiled softly at him. "The first lesson you must learn, mon trésor, if you are to survive as a king, is that you cannot fix everything. There is no magical way to solve all the people's afflictions. Giving away handouts, and making starry-eyed promises, is an idiotic way of pretending to rule over a kingdom."

 

Mother and son looked at each other in silent understanding for a moment. They were suddenly interrupted by the sound of falling crates, and both the vendor and the queen's maids' cries of dismay.

 

In all of her three year old innocence, Lenna had snatched an apple from the fruit stall, causing all of the other goods to fall down, just so she could give it to the beggar herself.

 

"Look mommy!" The girl cried out, full of pride. "I can make the ugly, dirty man happy too!"

 

Logan frowned and turned to look at the vendor. The young woman's face was soaked in tears, while she tried to save as much of her wares as possible. The prince rushed to help her. He gathered as many fruits as his arms could carry, and tried to accommodate them on the stall to the best of his abilities. The vendor looked at him with such anger, like it had been Logan's fault that Lenna ruined her stall.

 

He was about to reach down and pick up some more apples, when a familiar feeling of vibrations on the ground made Logan yank his hand away from the fruit right before it got crushed underneath the hooves of a very large horse. One quick look at the vendor made the young prince realize that she too had lost all interest on her stall or her wares. She was mesmerized, staring at the statuesque figure of the man in front of her.

 

Logan looked up to see his father. Sitting on his horse -a shire of approximately twenty hundred pounds, the only animal capable of bearing such a large man on it's back- King Jacques was the perfect image of a legendary Hero.

 

"My darling wife." The king gave them his most charming and best rehearsed smile. "And my beloved son."

 

"Daddy!" Lenna called out, jumping up and down beside her father's horse. The king paid no mind.

 

Queen Anna moved closer to Logan, and placed both hands protectively on his shoulders. Trained for the stage, she too knew how to smile and pretend for the crowd. "Mon amour! You're home earlier than expected."

 

"Couldn't stay away from my precious queen any longer." He answered.

 

"Oh, darling! You're such a charmer." The queen all but pushed Logan towards the castle. "Why don't we go inside, so you can get some rest, mon amour?"

 

" Mother, aren't you forgetting about...?" Logan tried to get the queen's attention, but his mother was not listening. She kept on walking towards the castle, with her hands firmly placed on the boy's shoulders. It was only when they were halfway through the courtyard, that Queen Anna finally noticed.

 

"Marrietta!" She called out to her maid. "Bring the princess into the castle and get her ready for dinner!"

 

* * *

 

 

It was one of those rare nights when all of the royal family was gathered together. But Jacques was not the least bit happy about that. He had been, as usual, traveling across Albion and defending his subjects from the many threats that plagued the kingdom, when his ill-timed body had chosen to betray him.

 

The condition that afflicted him from birth was starting to take its final toll on the king. It all started with an extended episode of paralysis a few months earlier. He had been fortunate enough to be alone in his room at some inn when the attack occurred, and not outside where everyone could see him. He had spent almost an hour without being able to move a single muscle, which was much longer than he had ever experienced before. Maybe he should have returned to the castle right away to seek medical aid from the royal physician -that would have been the sensible thing to do-. But Jacques was a proud man, and assumed it was just another epileptic episode like the many others he suffered in his lifetime. He had been wrong. Shortly after, his hands started shaking involuntarily. It was only a mild quiver at first, easy to control. But, as the weeks passed, the tremor had gotten worse and worse. Until that fateful day, when the almighty Jacques Langley could no longer hold his own sword.

 

Ashamed and defeated, he had returned to Bowerstone Castle. The reigns of his horse strapped to his wrists so he wouldn't lose control of the animal. He had kept whole arrangement carefully concealed underneath his leather gloves, with his long red cloak draped across, unwilling to have anyone get a load of just how much his hands were shaking.

 

Jacques was getting old, and he knew it. Although he had never really kept much track of his actual age, and the blessings from the Temple of Light had kept his handsome looks and rampant vigor untarnished, his best guess was that he was somewhere around his late sixties -maybe even early seventies-. And, even if he hadn't really expected to live forever, the whole idea of his body shutting down on him filled Jacques' heart with dread. He was not ready to retire, much less to die. His kingdom needed him. His son, Logan, was still too young, and had yet to show any sign of power. His boy, the only person Jacques had really loved in his life, still needed his guidance.

 

The scene of the royal family having dinner that night would have been the perfect picture of opulence. There was some kind of roasted bird, red meat, potatoes, cooked vegetables, all sorts of baked goods, and even two different kinds of wine. All set only for the sake of appearances, and all of it left completely untouched.

 

Their actual meal consisted only of small portions of raw vegetables, and plain water. King Jacques and his children were physically unable to eat anything else without gaining an insane amount of weight. And Anna, his wife, was obsessed with starving herself. In the three years after she gave birth to her last child, the queen of Albion had managed to shrink herself into a skeletal figure. However, she still insisted on the family having a full banquet every night. When Jacques questioned her motives, Anna had just said it was important for the prince and princess to get used to abundance.

 

For him the whole setting felt like a reflection of everything that was wrong with his life, and with his family. Both Anna and himself tried too hard to keep up the appearances. That was the main reason why, as opulent as the feast looked, the king and queen of Albion insisted on not having any servants present at their private meals. They did not want to give anyone a chance to see the reality of the royal family.

 

They ate, or at least pretended to eat, mostly in silence. Jacques' inner gloom had spread to the rest of his family. Only the girl, who was completely oblivious to anything other than herself, carried on with her childish noises.

 

"I want more food!" She cried out and tapped on the table with her fork. "I am hungry!"

 

 

"You've eaten more than enough, Lenna." The queen turned to look at her daughter. "You're starting to puff out like a piglet, and what have I told you about that?"

 

"That nobody loves a fat girl." The child lowered her head and frowned. "But I am hungry! I want strawberries!"

 

"Anymore food, and you'll end up like a hideous, porcine spinster. Is that what you want, Lenna?" Anna insisted. "Do you want to die all alone and unloved?"

 

The princess shook her head, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

 

Jacques had never wanted the girl, but his wife had insisted on having her. The king had been generous enough not to deny the kid, and give her a place in his home. But as far as he was concerned, the princess was Anna's problem. If his wife wanted to starve the child to death, he would not be the one to intervene.

 

However, when his son tried to split his own meal in half and sneak some it to her... well, that was another story.

 

"Don't you dare, Logan." The king commanded. "You are still growing, and you need to eat all your food."

 

"But Lenna..." The boy protested. He had a weak spot for his sister. Jacques could understand that, once upon a time he too had a sister he loved.

 

The king took a deep breath and reached out for the glass in front of him. It was a simple movement, something he had done many times. It wasn't like he was trying to hold a sword, or fire a crossbow. Still, his treacherous body had to turn something as mundane as holding a glass of water into a full display of Jacques' decay. His fingers twitched involuntarily, and the glass shattered in his hand, leaving his side of the table soaking wet, and full of shards.

 

"Mommy says we shouldn't make a mess on the table." The girl spoke in that annoying, squeaky, little voice of hers.

 

Jacques clenched his fist and took a deep breath. He wanted nothing more than to beat the life out that little nuisance. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm down and not do anything he would regret later on. He was very much aware of his own temper, and he bitterly remembered the things he had done to his previous children while in a fit of rage. He did not want to go there. He had to still himself.

 

"You are right, ma fille. Manners should be observed while on the table. We are royalty, not..." Anna's voice distracted him. He could hear the smirk and the poison behind her words. "... street beggars."

 

Jacques turned to face her. Anna had always looked down on Jacques' humble origins. As expected, She returned his gaze with a contemptuous smile.

 

Everything happened in a split second. All of his resolve dissolved with the disdain he saw in her icy blue eyes. It no longer mattered if he was going to regret it, or what would happen to their children. The only thing Jacques could feel was the boiling rage inside his gut. With all his might, he slammed his fist against the table. It shattered pretty much in the same way the glass did between his fingers, but this time instead of shameful it was liberating.

 

Among the noise of plates and silverware crashing on the floor, Jacques heard the girl letting out a shriek and starting to cry. That should teach her to stay silent, he thought.

 

"Now, how's this for cleaning up the table, darling?" He turned to look at Anna with bloodshot eyes and a sinister grin.

 

"Violence" She sighed, completely unmoved by his display. "The obvious response of a brute."

 

Without thinking, he crossed the distance between them and grabbed her face. She felt so tiny and fragile in his hand. Yet again, everyone was small compared to Jacques.

 

"You think you're quite something" He hissed into her ear, close enough so that she could feel his breath against her. "Don't you, my love?"

 

Anna remained still and silent, not even trying to struggle. Jacques traced his thumb over her lips, smearing her makeup, tarnishing her beauty.

 

"Tell me, Anna." He tightened his grip and was almost ecstatic to hear her gasp. "What would you do without your pretty face?"

 

"The same thing you will do without your precious powers." She answered, and tried to force a smirk. "The only difference, my dear, is that I am still beautiful."

 

"No, Anna." He grabbed her long dark hair and pulled her head back. "Your beauty withered a long time ago. You look like a reanimated skeleton, a hollowman. Or should I say, hollowwoman?"

 

She pursed her lips, and Jacques noticed a fleeting movement of her eyes. He turned to look in the same direction as her, but the only thing he could see was the door slamming shut.

 

* * *

 

Logan dragged Lenna into the small salon next to the dinning room. His little sister was sobbing uncontrollably. She was terrified. Although it was not unusual for their parents to end the night at each others' throats, it was still an awful scene to witness.

 

Logan had learned at an early age, that there was no use in trying to help his mother. The queen was more than capable of standing up to his father. Besides, he had the feeling, that she took some strange kind of pleasure in their constant arguments. Instead, he took it upon himself to protect Lenna. Both children hurried to hide behind a curtain, when they heard heavy footsteps storm into the room.

 

"Aging is a part of life, Jacques" The queen followed her husband, her movements careful and calmed in contrast with the king's frenzy. "The sooner you come to terms with your circumstances, the better."

 

"You just don't understand, woman!" King Jacques paced around the room. It looked too small for such a big man. At six feet and ten inches of height, he was almost a giant. "I'm losing it! I cannot even hold my own sword! Who's going to defend this kingdom?!"

 

"Defend it from what?" Queen Anna sighed, and gracefully sat on a couch. "Albion, although primitive, is a full kingdom. And, maybe your condition is starting to affect your memory, but let me remind you that Lucien Fairfax has been dead for over twenty years. Don't you think it's about time you retired from the whole 'Hero' business?"

 

"I can't, Anna." He answered. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a whole world outside this castle. There are all sorts of evil creatures still prowling around Albion."

 

"Evil will always exist." She reached out for a small silver case and took out a cigarette. Logan frowned from behind the curtain. As much as he loved his mother, he disliked her habit greatly. "Besides, that's what the guards, and the army are for."

 

"The guards and the army are worthless!" The king slammed his fist on a table, breaking it. "Absolutely incompetent!"

 

"And whose fault is that?" Without as much as a second glance to the broken furniture, the queen lit her cigarette and took a long drag. "Sometimes I'm sure you keep them under-trained on purpose, just to keep yourself indispensable."

 

"I will stop being necessary the day my son decides to develop powers of his own." King Jacques words pierced Logan's heart like a dagger. The young prince had never shown any signs of having any of his father's talents.

 

"Logan is just a boy!"The queen exhaled a long trail of smoke "He still has a lot to learn. And more than those powers of yours, your son needs to learn how to be a king! There is a big difference between being a brutish hero, and an actual statesman! Besides, if you are so adamant about those parlor tricks, there is a chance the girl..."

 

"I don't care about that girl!" The king cried out, enraged. "She shouldn't have been born, and you know it!"

 

Behind the curtain, Logan held Lenna close to him.

 

"Don't listen." He whispered to his sister, whose tiny face was now all wet with tears and snot. "He's just an old, bad man. Don't listen to a word he says."

 

"Three children, and all of them worthless!" King Jacques complained, his voice full of bitterness. "If only my older son -my rightful heir, that is- wasn't hiding like a coward behind the tzar."

 

Three children? Logan furrowed his brow. He had known about his father's first family. But he always believed all of his older siblings were dead.

 

"Your older son gave up any claim he could have to the throne the moment he pledged himself to the service of Nivengard!" Queen Anna cried out. "Logan is your rightful heir! Powers or no powers!"

 

"This family is nothing without them!" The King closed the distance between him and his wife. "You would never understand because you're a foreigner, but that's how I saved this whole kingdom and its inhabitants!"

 

"When was that? Twenty, maybe thirty years ago? We cannot keep on living from your past glories, Jacques" She placed her cigarette on the ashtray and looked up at him, her blue eyes unflinching. "If Albion is ever going to measure up to Finistère..."

 

"What did you just say?" King Jacques reached out and held her face in his hand, violently jerking her up.

 

"Nothing... but.. the.. truth." Although it was difficult for her to speak under his grip, Queen Anna remained as stoic as ever.

 

"So you think your old kingdom is better than us, is that right?" The king slapped his wife's face with such force that her body slammed back into the couch.

 

"Finistère is far stronger than Albion, only because they have been united for much longer." She muttered. Come morning, she was going to have one large bruise right where he hit her.

 

"In Albion you are the queen." He towered over her, menacing. "In Finisterre you are nothing but a pretty dancer...An overpriced harlot."

 

"Are you going to try and have your way with me, Jacques?" She looked up at him with one eye, the other one concealed under a bony hand.

 

Logan covered Lenna's ears, and pulled her face tight against his chest.

 

"Don't flatter yourself, Anna." He smirked. "A man like me has no business with a withered skeleton like yourself. Have you noticed the way women look at me, dear? Maybe it's about time I find myself a younger mistress."

 

"Oh, be my guest! Your first born daughter would be older than me, were she still alive. " The queen scoffed, and straightened herself. Her cheek was starting to swell, so she gracefully arranged her long black hair to fall over her bruised side. "Anything younger would be like your granddaughter. And I wonder just for how long will you still be functional for her?"

 

He conjured a large ball of fire in his right hand. Glowing blue lines of will cracked his otherwise flawless skin, and his tangled golden hair made him look like a lion. With a primal scream, he released the fireball against a portrait of Queen Anna that hung on the wall behind her, right next to the curtain behind which Logan and Lenna were hiding.

 

"Keep that up, Anna" King Jacques hissed. "And next time it will be your real face!"

 

Lenna let out a bloodcurdling scream. Logan tried to stop her, but she squeezed out of his arms like a cat.

 

"Mommy!" She stormed out from their hiding place and stepped in front of her father, banging her small fists against the king's leg. "Bad man! Get away from my mommy!"

 

It all happened too fast. Logan saw his father's enraged look shift from his mother to Lenna, and his huge hand rising ready to strike. As if gifted with some preternatural agility, the prince jumped in front of the king, and took the impact in his sister's stead.

 

Logan fell on the floor, thick blood flooded his mouth, and he had to spit it along with a couple of teeth. His father had undoubtedly shown some restrain. A man the size of King Jacques, bestowed with superhuman strength, could certainly kill a small, scrawny boy -like Logan- with just one blow.

 

"You think you can protect her, my son?" His father raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

"Leave Lenna alone!" Logan answered, long red trails of blood running down his chin. "We have done nothing..."

 

"Precisely!" The king smirked. "You have done absolutely nothing."

 

There was a moment of silence. Logan looked down, unable to answer to his father.

 

"And yet, you're willing to do anything to protect her, aren't you?" King Jacques' light brown eyes shifted between both of his children. With movements far too graceful for such a large man, he picked up Lenna, who shook with fear and cried in her father's grip. "Let me tell you a secret, son."

 

Without even looking at Logan. The king pressed his daughter against a wall.

 

"The first time I became aware of my powers, was when Lucien Fairfax murdered my sister, Rose." He said, his gaze still fixed on Lenna.

 

Logan widened his eyes in shock.

 

"If this is what it takes for you to react, so be it."The king wrapped an enormous hand around the young girl's neck.

 

"Arrête, Jacques !" The queen stood from the couch abruptly, her stoic mask finally broken. "Please stop!"

 

"Stay out of this, Anna." He said and, with his free hand, launched a force-push spell that sent his wife flying against a wall, knocking her unconscious.

 

"Tell me, Logan, can you feel any power flowing through you?" King Jacques tightened his grip around Lenna's neck. "Or should I kill her?"

 

"Please! Let her go!" Logan cried out, desperately trying to focus all his energy just to get something to appease his father.

 

"Nothing yet?" King Jacques squeezed even harder. Lenna was trying to cry but, without any oxygen, the only thing that came out of her mouth were horrible gagging noises.

 

"I... I can't!" Logan was trying as best as he could to release some power he couldn't even understand to begin with. Tears appeared in the corners of his dark eyes.

 

"You cry, and I'll break her neck." Was all his father said.

 

Lenna's face had gone from red to purple, and her eyes had turned glassy. Logan could no longer tell if she was still alive. A single drop of blood fell from her tiny nose.

 

That was the ultimate trigger. The young prince felt his whole being boiling from the inside. Something awoke in him, some kind of internal combustion. Without thinking, he threw a small fireball against his father.

 

The king diffused his son's incipient spell with one hand, and released Lenna. The small child fell on the carpet floor, limp like a rag doll.

 

Logan rushed to his sister's side, frantically searching for any sign of life. He let out a relieved breath, when he felt her heart beating, and saw the color slowly returning to her cheeks.

 

"I'm sorry it had to be like this, Logan" The king whispered. "But know that I'm very proud of you, my beloved son."

 

* * *

The girl was still alive. She was badly hurt, however. She had suffered a sprained neck, and her collarbone was broken. A little bit more pressure would have either killed her, or left her paralyzed for life. In order for the princess to heal properly she had to remain completely still, strapped to a board on her bed, unable to move for the next six months.

 

His wife had only suffered a minor concussion. She had been taken back to her chambers to rest, with a nurse to keep her under observation. The queen would have a black eye in the morning, and it was recommended for her not to appear in public until she was fully healed, just to avoid unnecessary questions.

 

As for Logan, well, the teeth he lost were of the milk kind. They would grow back eventually. However, he would have a scar on his face for the rest of his life. A mark to commemorate the night he discovered his powers.

 

Dr. Winton, the royal physician, gave Jacques the news without being able to look him in the eye. This was not the first time the healer had been called to patch up the royal family after one of the king's outbursts. The man was under a strict oath of secrecy, though. One misplaced word, and he would be executed.

 

Alone in his chambers, the king of Albion tried to remember the events of the night. He couldn't recall the moment when he had completely snapped. One second, he was having dinner with his family, the next... It felt like he was no longer in control of his own body. He had witnessed the whole scene from far away. He saw himself beating his beloved son, throwing his wife against a wall and strangling the girl. But it felt like it had been someone else entirely.

 

What he remembered clearly was the fireball that escaped from Logan's hand. Despite everything that happened, Jacques was still satisfied with the result. Wounds would heal eventually. And One fine day, Logan would hold the guild seal, ready to carry on with the family legacy.

 

Still, Jacques' halo of righteousness had been tarnished. And, for the good of Albion, it was crucial that the king preserved his benevolent appearance. Whenever his actions strayed away from the path of virtue, the signs of an evil nature started to reflect on his body. His golden hair lost its luminosity, and turned a dull shade of light brown. His skin paled considerably, and dark circles appeared under his eyes.

 

He had to get to the Temple of Light, and cleanse his soul as soon as possible. The king had learned a long time ago that enough gold could buy him blessings, and restore his aura of morality whenever his sins demanded such. And, although Jacques was not particularly fond of using the magic of his sanctuary to travel. He couldn't take the chance of someone seeing him like that; with his sullied looks, and shaking hands.

 

The king of Albion stepped into his son's bedroom before leaving. The boy was not there. He found him sleeping in the girl's room, curled up next to his sister.

 

Jacques stepped closer to the bed and placed a kiss on Logan's temple. "You've made me so proud, my boy."

 

* * *

 

Logan pretended to be asleep when his father entered the room. He did not react to the touch, or the words spoken to him. He just held onto Lenna's small hand, and waited for the king to leave.

 

That night at the tender age of seven, Logan made a vow to himself. A resolution that would mark him for life, just like the scar on his face. He would find a way to get rid of those cursed powers -even if it killed him-, and he would never become anything like that monster he called father.


	4. The Valley of Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The desperate times that precede Albion's uprising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS INCEST, MENTIONS OF AN ABORTION, INSINUATIONS OF CHILD MURDER, AND SUICIDE, AMONG OTHER MATURE THEMES. IF ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS BOTHERS YOU PLEASE DO NOT READ.

 

It was impossible to keep track of time inside the Nivengardian dungeons. Designed to torment the prisoners as much as possible, the cells were built without any windows. Inside them days and months would blend into each other, causing a despairing sensation of eternity.

 

The only indicative that Nadya had been there for at least a few weeks was the toll that the incarceration had taken on her appearance. Her body had narrowed to the point where she could feel her every rib underneath her skin. Her golden hair, once so silky and shiny, was now a mated, tangled mess. The only remnants of the beautiful princess she had once been were her gray eyes, still proud and unbroken despite the punishment inflicted upon her.

 

On the bright side, she did not have many visitors that could be scared by her disheveled looks. Maybe her father had forbidden her family to make contact with her, maybe they were too outraged by Nadya's behavior that they did not want to see her at all. In any case, her most frequent companion was the cold, followed by the occasional visit from her older sister, Mashenka...

 

... Who just happened to have killed herself a few years prior.

 

Between her sister's ghost keeping the loneliness at bay, and the heavy cloak protecting her from the cold, the disgraced princess of Nivengard felt uncomfortably connected to the man who had sent her to the dungeons in the first place. And it certainly did not help, that Grigory's cape still held onto the rather pleasant smell of incense and musk that was its owner's.

 

"Are you afraid?" Mashenka's ghost asked, effectively pulling her out from her thoughts. "Of dying, I mean."

 

"Of course I am! I don't want to die." Nadya was curled up with the cloak wrapped tightly around her body. She looked up at her spectral sister and smiled sheepishly. "No offense, dear."

 

"None taken." Mashenka's translucent figure hovered next to her. "I did not want to die either. I just thought I did. But, in hindsight, it wasn't such a great idea."

 

"Why did you do it, Mash?"

 

"Broken heart. I was in love, he broke up with me, therefore I jumped out of my bedroom's window." Mashenka's tranquility while talking about her own death was quite disturbing. "The truth is I wasn't really happy to begin with. I felt inadequate to be a princess, and I couldn't be anything else. I wasn't pretty like you or Gabrielle, and I did not consider myself to be all that smart or charming. I fell for that man because I thought he would make me special, and when he left me... well, I guess I believed it confirmed my own feelings of worthlessness. It only made sense I'd end it all, you know?"

 

"You were not worthless! And you were in no way less than any of us!" Nadya felt a lump in her throat forming as she spoke. "Why did you have to keep it all to yourself? Do you know how much it hurt me when you died? I blamed myself for not being there for you! You'd still be alive, if only you had talked to me!"

 

"It wouldn't have made a difference." The dead princess looked into her sister's eyes. "No matter what you said or did, I would still have jumped out of that window. Even if you had stayed with me at all times, I would have done it the minute you turned your back on me. Even if the man I loved had stayed with me. I hated myself, I wanted to die, and there was nothing you -or anybody else- could have done about it. You cannot save those who don't want to be saved, Nad."

 

"She's right, you know?" A smooth, masculine voice spoke from outside her cell.

 

"Of course I am! But you go ahead and try to explain it to her." Mashenka looked at the newcomer and vanished into thin air.

 

"I believe this is yours..." Nadya frowned and -much to her dismay- removed the cape from around herself. With the cold air from the dungeons piercing her skin like a thousand needles, she tossed the heavy garment back to its rightful owner. "...Grigory."

 

The man unlocked the gates and stepped inside. With a soft sigh and his ever present smirk, he wrapped the cloak around Nadya's trembling body. Grigory looked at her, but did not say anything about her disheveled looks. "Don't be so proud, girl. You'll freeze to death."

 

Nadya was about to say something, when Grigory handed her a small flask. It's contents were so warm, that little clouds of steam escaped from the top.

 

"What is this?" She asked with a frown.

 

"It's only tea, I promise." He reached into his coat, and took out a small satchel containing the famous Nivengardian biscuits the royal family used to test their meals for poison. "See for yourself if you don't believe me."

 

In other circumstances, Nadya would have never drank anything Grigory offered to her. But in her current state of disgrace, whether he poisoned or drugged her would not make much of a difference. And the steaming hot beverage looked so good. She took both the flask and the biscuits. The test came out clean of any known toxin.

 

Nadya took a small sip and realized the liquid was in fact a rather sweet tea. It slid down her throat and into her stomach like a miracle.

 

"I would have come to see you sooner, but I've been spending most of my time in Finisterre." Grigory sat on the cot next to her. She could feel the warmth from his body. Aside from the guards, who often lingered in silence outside her cell, he was the first tangible person she had seen in a long time. "Turns out that taking care of our little secret is a full time job. I've requested your father to send me there as an ambassador, allow me to serve as a liaison between both empires."

 

"Karmilla..." Nadya turned to look at him. Despite everything, she still felt relieved that he hadn't killed Logan's daughter. "Is she in good health?"

 

"Are you asking me about her current condition?" Grigory raised an eyebrow. "Or do you want to know if she is normal?"

 

"I guess both." She lowered her gaze a bit ashamed. The thought of Karmilla's parentage resulting in an... unusual child had definitely crossed her mind. "I want to know if she is alright?"

 

"Sunlight doesn't agree with her, and her heroic blood requires for her to be under a very peculiar diet." He answered. "Other than that, she is a pretty unremarkable baby."

 

"She needs her mother." Nadya took a small sip of tea to sweeten the bitterness behind her words.

 

"Do you really think Lenna is fit to raise a child?" Grigory shrugged. "She's a loose cannon! She even managed to get herself thrown out from The Abbey."

 

"The Abbey is about as low as any princess can sink. But as long as the gold keeps flowing, anyone can get away with murder in there" Nadya furrowed her brow. "What did she do to get herself expelled of such a place?"

 

"Violent outbursts." Grigory smirked. "She caused some heavy -not to mention expensive- damages to the facilities."

 

"Goodness gracious!" The princess of Nivengard widened her eyes in shock. If Lenna could wreck a place built to endure even the most troubled of women, it could only mean one thing. "Don't tell me she is..."

 

"Starting to manifest her powers? I'm afraid so. A mad, scorned woman with superhuman strength. How is she the right person to look after a child?"

 

"Still, that's not for you to decide." Nadya shook her head. "Karmilla has a father too."

 

"Logan has enough on his plate. He needs to focus on building an army to save his kingdom. The child's presence would only put more strain on him." Grigory answered. "With the Elites being the only exception. Albion's fighting corps are little more than a joke. They cannot even hold a fort against an enemy as primitive as walking corpses without getting someone killed almost every night."

 

"On that, I agree." Nadya took another sip from her tea. "They've grown so used to have a Hero watching over them, that they've become completely incompetent. Gabrielle calls them the _'casse-noisettes'_ because they remind her of some silly dolls they make in northern Finisterre. Although the accurate term should be something along the lines of _'nussknacker'_ , I believe."

 

"Of course you'd feel the need to correct your sister-in-law's linguistics, even when you're sitting here in prison. I'm glad to see you have your priorities set." Grigory looked at her, his lips curved into a smirk. "And Logan is trying to fight the darkness with nothing more than shiny 'elites' and stupid _'nut-crackers'_. It's ridiculous, but somehow romantic at the same time. You really are meant for each other."

 

* * *

 

Lenna's return to Albion was a lot less glorious than it seemed. Logan had watched in grim silence, as his sister greeted her friends and talked about the wonderful time she spent in Finisterre. As usual, the princess had been able to play the social part gracefully and flawless. She delighted the crowd with beautiful lies about her academic life, and embellished stories of her shopping trips and all the new friends she had made overseas. With a perfect smile, and among the adoration of her usual entourage, Lenna had shown off all her new gowns and jewelry. Everyone was in awe of her.

 

Only Logan knew the bitter truths behind Lenna's stories. Underneath the silk and velvet of her Finisterran dress, the princess body suffered the permanent damage of a complicated childbirth -Lenna would never be able to have another baby-. Behind the copious amount of pearls adorning her were the tears she'd never be able to cry in public. And inside the porcelain doll she had been carrying around like a souvenir of her trip were the ashes of their daughter.

 

Karmilla.

 

Logan dared not even think of her name. He could not allow himself to picture Lenna's child like a whole person, much less his own daughter. It was easier to imagine a monstrous creature, the twisted product of an unholy union, something so horribly deformed that her death should be considered a merciful event. It was better than the alternative. Logan had to protect what little sanity he had left. And he knew deep in his broken heart, that the moment he began to grieve the loss of his daughter, he would never be able to stop.

 

There was also Lenna. The woman he had sent to The Abbey was not the same person who came back. Among her grief and despair, Lenna's powers had started to manifest in the form of an unnatural physical strength. She had torn apart the place, and almost killed a few orderlies with her bare hands.

 

It wouldn't be long before that social climber, Walter Beck, took notice of the princess' potential. And the man was determined to make a Hero out of her.

 

Ever since Lenna was a child, Walter had filled her head with fabricated stories about her father -always making sure to insert himself at the center of it all, as King Jacques' closest friend and ally-. Lies, all of it. The truth, as Logan clearly remembered, was that the king only saw Walter as little more than a servant and couldn't even remember the man's name. If Logan had allowed him to spin all those tales for Lenna, was only because the reality of it all was far too horrible for his sister to bear. What good would it have made for her to know that her father, the legendary Hero of Bowerstone, had been nothing but a monster, who abused his family time and again? How could he let her know that the Hero of her dreams was also the giant of her nightmares?

 

The problem was not whether or not Lenna believed the plethora of lies Walter had told her. The problem was the old knight was adamant to make them real. And since King Jacques was already dead, he would make sure to do so with his daughter.

 

The real problem was Logan couldn't live with another Hero.

 

Through all the years, the young king of Albion had taken a lot from his sister. He had stoically endured Lenna's deranged games, and outbursts. He allowed her jealousy to isolate him from everyone who had ever tried to get close to him. She had even carved her own name on his skin. For a long time, and despite being brother and sister, Logan had given himself to Lenna in body and soul. For all means and purposes, Lenna had always been his one true queen.

 

But he could never be able to love a Hero. Not after all he had done to himself in order to suppress those cursed powers. And, on that regard, Logan was mourning not only the loss of his child, but also that of his beloved Lenna.

 

For weeks after her return to Albion, Logan had done everything in his power to avoid his sister. He had even ordered to have the princess chambers moved out of their own private wing, and into a large room overlooking the gardens on the other side of the castle. For a while, the turmoil of Lenna's homecoming kept the castle bursting with people eager to see the princess. With all her visitors, and social functions, Lenna had little time to grieve, and no need for Logan's presence by her side. But as soon as the novelty of her return faded out and life went back to normal, she tried to reach out for him once again.

 

It was a bit past noon, Logan was alone in his chambers taking his medication. Lenna walked into the room, her eyes red and swollen from crying. He pretended not to notice, and continued rolling up his sleeve to prepare his arm for the syringe. Ever since his trip to Aurora, Logan's condition had been getting a little bit worse every day.

 

"Dr. Winton has increased your doze." Lenna said softly. He could feel the floor vibrating with her footsteps, when she approached him. Her feet were still clumsy and heavy with her newfound strength. The awakening of a Hero's powers was a lot like puberty; an awkward period of physical adjustments and involuntary outbursts. At least Lenna's manifestation had been through strength instead of will.

 

Logan had tried his best to forget it ever happened, but he knew just how nasty an unconscious manifestation of will could get.

 

"Can you come back later?" He asked without looking at her, pretending to fumble with the leather strap he used as a tourniquet. "I'm busy."

 

As usual, Lenna ignored his request and reached out to adjust the contraption herself. Before Logan could protest, she had already prepared his arm and taken hold of the syringe.

 

"How bad is it?" She asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

 

"It's not going to kill me."

 

"It better not." Lenna stuck the needle into his vein and whispered. "I've lost enough already, I cannot bear to lose you as well."

 

Logan did not answer. He just closed his eyes and enjoyed the soothing feeling of the medication flowing through him, cooling down his ever-burning blood.

 

"We need to talk." She pulled out the syringe and pressed a damp cloth against his arm. Her voice cracked, and he could tell she was about to cry once more. "When they brought me Karmilla's body... it did not smell like her."

 

"Not now, Lenna.."

 

"The scent of our family was there, alright?" She continued, paying no mind to his protest. "But it wasn't right, She did not smell like a little girl should... the scent... it was masculine. I was drugged, and I could not notice it right away, but the more I think about it..."

 

"You're imagining things." He answered sharply. "You went through a very hard experience, and your mind is playing tricks on you."

 

"I know what happened, Logan! I'm not crazy!"

 

"Well, neither am I." He finally turned to look at her, his expression cold as ice. "But that's exactly what you said to me, remember?"

 

"How dare you?!" She cried out, her face all flustered with rage. "How dare you compare your 'end of the world' delusions with the death of our daughter?!"

 

"Keep your voice down." He whispered angrily at her. "Someone will hear you."

 

"That's all you care about, isn't it?" Tears rolled down her cheeks. "To keep our dirty little secret well hidden. You are the only male carrier of our family's blood, Logan."

 

"I have not left this castle in months. Ask the staff, if you don't trust me." He could tell Lenna did not believe he had done anything to harm the child, or else she would have killed him already. "Has it occurred to you that maybe she died because she just wasn't... wholesome? Maybe her death is a sign that what we did was wrong."

 

"My dearest, Logan..." She smirked and waved a hand over his medication kit. "The only twisted creature in this family -in case you haven't noticed- is you. Maybe you passed your own disease onto her."

 

Maybe it was the condescending way she looked at him, maybe it was the implication that he had somehow infected Karmilla, or maybe it was just a strange combination of anger and grief that caused Logan to lose control of himself.

 

"My disease?" He looked into her eyes and smirked. "Let me show you my... disease."

 

Logan raised a hand and allowed what was trapped inside of him to escape for the briefest of moments. He had only intended for it to be a small demonstration, but the pressure built through years of suppressing himself exploded the moment he opened the gates that held back his powers. The spell came out like a blast of energy that shattered all the windows on that side of the castle.

 

Lenna looked at him, her eyes wide with shock.

 

"You are a..." She whispered.

 

"Don't you ever call me that." Logan took a deep breath and shut himself down once again. The pain of his blood protesting after the brief escape burned him from the inside. He was going to need an extra doze of medicine. "If I'm sick, Lenna, is because I've forced myself to suppress what's in our blood."

 

"You could have been a great king like our father" She smirked and shook her head. "And yet, you chose to be a disappointment."

 

"I don't have to justify my life's choices to you or to anyone."

 

"What is wrong with you?" Lenna looked at him with eyes full of disdain. "When my own powers come to light, I will not be as foolish as you. I'll bask in our bloodline's glory, and I'll be just as great as our father."

 

"I guess that settles it, then." Logan took a deep breath and prepared the syringe once again. The pain from his outburst was strong, but nowhere near as devastating as Lenna's words. Not only was she turning into the very thing he despised the most, she was also proud of it. The words flowed from his mouth loud and clear after being held back for a long time. "You know me, Lenna. You know there is nothing in this world that I despise more than Heroes. If you are so adamant on becoming one of those, then there is nothing I can love about you anymore."

 

Before Lenna could say anything, a couple of guards stormed into the room led by Walter Beck himself.

 

"Your majesty! Princess!" The old man cried out. "Are you hurt?!"

 

"We're fine." Lenna answered, discreetly positioning herself in front of Logan to conceal his medical equipment and give him a moment to roll his sleeve back into place.

 

"We heard the windows shattering." Walter looked suspiciously at them. "Can you tell us what happened?"

 

Logan and Lenna exchanged looked at each other and then back at the men in front of them. Whatever the situation was between them, they'd rather keep it private.

 

"We don't know." The princess shrugged

 

"No idea." The king said plainly. "Maybe you should go, see to have them all fixed before nightfall."

 

Walter's eyes were fixed on Lenna. A faint smile appeared on the man's lips. "I believe it's time for the princess to start paying more attention to her combat lessons."

 

 

* * *

 

After what seemed to be an eternity, Nadya was summoned by the tzar. She was allowed to take a bath and change into some of her former clothes, that hung a bit too loose around her diminished self. A couple of maids took care of washing her hair, they also brushed away the knots and trimmed down the split ends, until it looked almost as smooth as it had been when Nadya was still in her father's good graces.

 

Despite the fine treatment, the disgraced princess was not feeling anywhere near hopeful. The tzar had been ignoring her for months, and only looked at her on the night she was dragged into the dungeons. If he wanted her to look presentable, she was certain it wasn't because he was about to grant her an audience to defend herself.

 

Not like she had much to say on her behalf. After all, she had chosen to send that letter to Logan, even when she knew it meant treason to her own kingdom. Grigory may have set her up, but he did not force her to do anything. The only thing she could have done was to reveal that Lenna's daughter was still alive, and Grigory had not only disobeyed but also lied to the tzar. Maybe that would get her father to also question the man's accusations against Nadya. But she had already lost a child of her own just to please the tzar, and she never truly forgave herself for it. Maybe sacrificing Karmilla would save her own life, but Nadya knew she would not be able to live with herself if the girl was killed.

 

Once she was nice and presentable, the disgraced princess was escorted to the courtyard by two human officers. She knew it right then. Had this been an ordinary audience, her father would have used the Invincible Soldiers instead of actual men. As they walked in complete silence, Nadya felt her stomach clenching in terror and tears forming in the corners of her eyes. So much for being brave in the face of death, she thought.

 

Only the tzar, Vladimir and Gabrielle. The last one had her face buried in her hands, unwilling to watch her sister-in-law's execution. Nadya did not blame her, if anything she was relieved her father had chosen to spare her younger siblings of the spectacle. Grigory, however, was nowhere to be seen.  
After setting her up, and sending her to her death, the coward had just decided to be absent from her execution.

 

The firing squad marched into the courtyard, and Nadya felt her knees buckle and her mouth going dry. For a moment, she considered just taking off running in whatever direction she could. The result -her death- would still be the same, but at least she would not have to be standing there just waiting for it to happen.

 

No. Although terrified, Nadya was determined to end her life like a princess. She straightened herself, and folded her hands neatly in front of her. Even if she wasn't, she could at least let her family believe she was brave up to the last moment.

 

Because of Nadya's royalty status, the tzar had chosen only human officers for the firing squad. Low profile executions were carried out by Invincible Soldiers. Those men, who had orders to kill the princess, had also known her since she was a child. A lot of them had served alongside Adrik, and probably were aware of the story that the long dead captain once had with Nadya. She looked at them, and noticed the gloom that their grim task had laid upon them.

 

An officer stepped closer to her and offered her a blindfold. Nadya noticed the unease it caused him; but she was too scared to reassure him in any way. Both the princess and the soldier stood still for a moment, neither of them certain of what they should do. Finally, the man stepped behind Nadya, allowing her one last glimpse to the Nivengardian sky before leaving her in complete darkness.

 

"The Mother of Light be with you." He whispered solemnly to her.

 

"And also with you." She answered automatically.

 

Although Nivengard was not a deeply religious kingdom -they valued science over piety, and facts over faith-, they found it convenient to adhere to the Finisterran church. Whereas the people of Albion worshiped their primitive god, Avo, in their provincial temple. Nivengardian and Finisterran citizen prayed to the highly revered Mother of Light in huge cathedrals. On the verge of her death, however, Nadya prayed to both. She asked them to watch over her family, and to help Logan in his crusade. She prayed for Karmilla to grow healthy and happy, and to be reunited with her father someday. She wished for Lenna to find the peace of mind she needed so badly. And begged that her own soul would be taken to a better place, somewhere Grigory could never reach her. Nadya's last prayer was for him, she forgave him for his betrayal, and asked for his actions to bring good to both Albion and Nivengard.

 

In the darkness, Nadya's last minutes seemed to go on forever. She heard the tzar calling out for the officers to prepare their riffles. That was it, the end of her short and uneventful life. As much as she tried to give her final thoughts to Logan -and the love she felt for him-, her mind kept on drifting time and again towards Grigory. Why would he go through all that trouble just get her killed? Will he try to reach out for her on the other side? Did he want another soul for his collection?

 

The tzar called out the final order. And the last thing Nadya heard before her world fell into complete nothingness was the loud bang of the riffles shooting at her.

 

* * *

 

It took exactly two hundred and seventeen steps to get from Logan's room to the edge of the highest tower's window. That would make two hundred and eighteen steps to freedom. Also, the wooden beam on the ceiling of the library was strong enough to support the weight of a grown up human hanging from the neck. For a more dramatic effect, there was always the large marble bathtub -where he had shared so many precious moments with Lenna- and a dagger. Or he could be more practical and take his medication all at once. And -even more efficient- put a bullet in his head and be done with it in a matter of seconds.

 

He had fantasized with the idea ever since he was only nine years old. The pain derived from his condition, and pressure of being made king at such a young age had been so unbearable at times, that Logan often wished he could just die and be done with it. The only things that kept him from acting on those fantasies had been his duty to Albion and his love for Lenna. And both of them were quickly slipping through the young king's fingers.

 

Logan's situation had gone from bad to worse. Everywhere he went there would be voices whispering behind his back. The words 'tyrant' and 'monster' followed him around, almost as if he had them tattooed on his forehead. The anger among the people was spreading like a plague. Hardly a day went by without some kind of riot exploding around the castle.

 

Most of them, however, were nothing more than isolated incidents, incapable of igniting a real spark. Despite their hateful words and constant complaining, the citizens of Albion were pretty much an apathetic lot. The years of having Heroes taking care of all their needs, had caused them to fall into complacency. They were perfectly able to hate their king, and be really vocal about it. But few of them were willing to take any sort of action to make an actual change.

 

A small 'resistance' had formed in the depths of Bowerstone. Logan knew all about them. Their leader was a spirited young woman that went by the name of Page. With five hundred and eighty four audiences granted in the past eight years, she held an all time record of most petitions ever made to a monarch -and that was an international mark-. She was adamant to have the crown fix every single issue she could come up with, from poverty to the slow decline of the quality of the fruit sold in Bowerstone's market. She had been in Logan's presence at least once a week.

 

Page was so insistent, that at one point -in much happier days- she had even managed to trigger Lenna's jealousy. The woman had been right in the middle impassioned speech about how everyone in Albion should be entitled to at least fifty acres of productive land -Logan tried to reason with her that, even if he wanted to give it to them, there just wasn't enough physical territory available-, when Lenna had stormed into the throne room and publicly accused Page of having an unhealthy infatuation with the king. The entire room had burst into laughter, and Logan had to cancel all audiences for the day to avoid any further embarrassment. Ever since that day, Page had been holding a special kind of grudge against the royal family.

 

When the riots started, Logan figured out right away that it had to be her behind them. One of his guards confirmed his suspicions later on. For all her leadership skills, Page was terrible when it came to remain anonymous. Not only did she have a very distinctive appearance, but she also had chosen to place the entrance to her underground headquarters right next to one of Albion's most popular taverns. She might as well have put a sign saying 'Welcome to the resistance’s hideout' on the door.

 

For a while, the king had been amused to play some sort of 'cat and mouse' game with her. He had posters with her image placed all over Bowerstone, and even sent a few lesser members of her crew to spend a few months at The Keep. He could have wiped them out at anytime. But their existence provided the people with a much needed sense of opposition. Allowed the most disgruntled citizens of Albion to blow out some steam without being a real threat. But at the end of the day, the resistance lacked the discipline and training to orchestrate anything of real magnitude. And, despite all her passion, Page lacked the most important quality required to really inspire and rally the populace. She was not a Hero.

 

In order to beat the darkness, everyone -from the poorest beggar to the richest bourgeois- had to be prepared to fight. If they were going to stand a chance, there should be at least one riffle, or a sword -maybe even a common pitchfork- in the hands of every able individual. All of Albion had to be up and ready to take arms against a common enemy. For that to happen, two things were required. One was a Hero capable of inspiring the people, and leading them into battle. The other one was a villain a lot more tangible than the darkness, someone with a face and a name that they all could hate.

 

Logan's thoughts drifted between Albion and Lenna. His sister, the person he had loved more than anything in the world was about to become a Hero. It was the last thing he wanted in his life. Once her powers were fully awake, she would definitely take the mantle left behind by their father and start doing for the people of Albion all the things they should learn to do for themselves. All in all, it was a future Logan did not have any interest in being a part of.

 

Maybe it was time for him to act on his fantasies, and join Karmilla in the afterlife. Without another heir, the crown would go to his sister, and that would give Lenna's life some purpose. Perhaps his death would be enough to unite the people under a more charismatic leader, and give them a chance to survive what was coming to them. At least it would give them the monarch they really wanted.

 

After much consideration, Logan decided the best way to end it all would be through an overdose. His medication should be strong enough to kill him. And, unlike the other choices, he would not leave behind a gruesome corpse for Lenna to discover. He would simply fade away into a peaceful sleep. Or so he wished for.

 

Was he being selfish? Probably. Yet again, the young king had been selfless all his life. He had given everything to Albion and to his sister, never taking anything for himself. In his twenty eight years of existence, Logan had never even developed such a thing as a personal taste. He chose the color purple because it was Lenna's favorite. He ate whatever fruits or vegetables she was in the mood for. He even allowed her to select his outfits. The only thing he had ever truly enjoyed for himself had been his travels, and those had been ruined after what happened in Aurora. He had always been a king, but he had never been a person.

 

So, what difference would it make if he died?

 

With the calmed efficiency that follows a well thought course of action, Logan rolled up his sleeve and fastened the tourniquet around his arm. He filled the syringe with as much medicine as he could, and prepared himself.

 

"Are you certain that this is the right thing to do?" An ethereal, feminine voice spoke from nowhere in particular. In a matter of seconds, the world around him faded into a dull gray and time stopped inside his chambers.

 

"Since when do you care about what happens to me?" Logan leaned back in his chair, unmoved by the woman who slowly materialized in front of him. "Theresa."

 

"The Darkness is upon Albion, Logan." The seeress, now fully corporeal, stepped closer to the king. "Are you really willing to desert without a fight?"

 

"Lenna is manifesting her powers now." He answered, still holding the syringe against his arm. "It is her that you want. Not me."

 

"Will there be anything left of her after you take your own life?" Without waiting for an answer, Theresa crossed the distance between them and placed her hand on Logan's forehead.

 

* * *

 

Nadya's ears were still buzzing from the sound of the firing shots, and her head ached like someone had squeezed her brain from the inside. That was not what she expected. Shouldn't death rid a person of all their physical pain?

 

The princess opened her eyes slowly. She was back in her old bedroom, and laying on her old bed.

 

"Your highness! You're awake." A maid approached her, smiling as if the last few months of Nadya's life had never happened. Was that how the afterlife was supposed to be?

 

"Am I... dead?" She asked, and carefully rose into a sitting position.

 

"Goodness, no!" The maid shook her head. "Would you like me to bring you something to eat? Or shall I just tell his majesty that you're awake?"

 

Food. How long had it been since the last time she had eaten something? Nadya felt her stomach growling with the pangs of hunger. She was very much alive.

 

"Could I have some bread and jam?" She asked tentatively, craving something both sweet and warm. "And some tea, maybe?"

 

"As you wish, my lady." The young maid curtsied. "Is there anything else?"

 

Maybe it was the memory of the sweet tea, or maybe she was still disoriented after her supposed execution, but the request left Nadya's mouth before her brain had the chance to stop her. "Grigory. Can I see him?"

 

"I'm sorry." The maid lowered her gaze. "But his majesty specifically ordered for you to talk to him before anyone else."

 

"Forget I said anything. Just bring me some food, and let my father know I'm ready."

 

The young maid curtsied and left. She returned a few minutes later with a tray carrying warm bread, three different kinds of jam, and a small steaming teapot. There was also a small plate containing the traditional Nivengardian biscuits. A meal meant for a princess.

 

Nadya was still taking her meal, sitting on a chair next to the fireplace, when the tzar walked into the room. She almost dropped the piece of bread she had been spreading jam on, when she saw him. After all that happened, Nadya couldn't help but feel scared to see her father. She stood up and curtsied. "Your majesty."

 

"You are going to be the death of me, Nadyezhda." Unlike many other parents, the tzar only called his daughter by her full name as a form of endearment. That meant he had finally forgiven her.

 

"Father..." Nadya's voice cracked and a lump formed inside her throat. Despite everything that had happened, she was happy to see the tzar still cared about her.

 

"Sit down, child. We can talk while you eat." He said, and sat on a chair across his daughter's. "You need to recover your strength."

 

Nadya went back to her meal. Although it was hard to enjoy the sweet taste of the bread, with the tzar looking at her.

 

"Are you aware that you endured your punishment for a little over a year?" He asked her. "I shunned you from the family, imprisoned you, even staged your execution. But you did not break. And certainly you did not learn your lesson."

 

She was about to speak, but he silenced her with just a look.

 

"You always were such a difficult child." The tzar smiled softly. "Even if you claim to be an obedient little soldier, you always do as you please."

 

"That's not true, father!" Nadya protested.

 

"That situation with Adrik."

 

"You killed him, and you made me kill our child."

 

"I did not kill him. I sent him on a difficult quest. He had to prove himself worthy of the royal family." The tzar answered. "As for your child. What do you think would have happened had I let you keep it? Born out of wedlock and without a living father to acknowledge it, you would have been forever burdened with a bastard. It would have ruined your life."

 

"Still, it was not your choice to make." Nadya pushed away her plate, no longer feeling hungry.

 

"No, Nadya, it was yours. Neither I nor your mother forced the tea down your throat." The tzar spoke in a calmed voice. "You could have refused, you could have ran away."

 

"We both know what you do when your children disobey you." She frowned. "You shunned me from the family, you imprisoned me, and made me believe I was going to be executed!"

 

"What I did was sent you on a mission. But the moment an obstacle appeared, you chose desertion rather than asking for help." He shook his head. "What Grigory did was tempt you with a bit of information, and you chose to commit treason. You were right by Gabrielle and Vladimir's side the whole time, you could have talked to them before sending that letter. And when you found out Karmilla was still alive, you chose to walk to your death rather than jeopardizing her life."

 

"You knew about Karmilla?" Nadya stiffened in her chair, and bit the inside of her cheek just to keep from screaming. Once again, she had been played. All the suffering she had endured, all those months in prison, all for nothing. If only she hadn't known better, she would have tried to slap her father across the face.

 

"Do you really think I would kill a child like her? She is, after all, a pure blooded hero." The tzar looked into his daughter's eyes. "What I need is to groom her into becoming one of us, to make her a Nivengardian. Your mission, my dear, is to travel to Finisterre with Grigory, and raise that child like she was your own. Make her strong, make her wise, and more important, make her ours."

 

"Why raise her in Finisterre and not here? What about her parents?"

 

"You ask too many questions, Nadya." Her father stood from his chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. "When will you start trusting your own family?"

 

Someone knocked on the door just as the tzar was walking out. Nadya widened her eyes when she saw Grigory walking into the room. For a moment she forgot she had called for him.

 

"You tricked me." She said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You..."

 

"Maybe so, but we did get results, didn't we?" Grigory moved closer to her. "Karmilla is alive and safe. What's more, you will be able to look after her."

 

It was easier to take her anger out on the man before her than on the tzar. Nadya stood up from her chair and crossed the distance between them. She had never hit anyone in her life, so when her fists slammed against Grigory's chest it was more ridiculous than threatening.

 

"You let me rot in there!!!" She cried out. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She tried to push the man, but he was too strong to be moved."I lost almost a full year of my life in that cell!"

 

"Nadya..." Instead of trying to get her off of him. Grigory wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulder and held her close to him. She hated him so much, but buried her face in his chest all the same. They stood like that for a long time, with Nadya crying in the arms of the man who betrayed her.

 

"It was all for nothing..." She whispered.

 

"Hush, girl." He held her face gently between his hands and made her look into his eyes, carefully wiping off her tears with his thumbs. "Don't see it like that. It's not good for you. Those nine months you were imprisoned, plus the ones you spent as a servant of Gabrielle, those were the dues you had to pay. In that time you were willing to sacrifice everything for that child, like only a mother would. You have proven yourself worthy of calling Karmilla your own, and I know you'll be ten times the mother Lenna could ever be. Even if she was the one who gave birth to her."

 

"What about Logan?" Nadya asked in between sobs. "Are we just going to let him perish?"

 

"After what happened, Nivengard will never give Albion any kind of help." Grigory released her from his embrace, and sat on the chair the tzar had once ocupied.

 

"Maybe you could talk to my father. He might just..."

 

"If only we weren't on our way to Finisterre." He stared into Nadya's eyes.

 

"I see." The princess nodded in understanding. "So, how come the tzar's most precious advisor and a shunned princess happen to live there with a baby? Is she supposed to be our lovechild?"

 

" If you care for an explanation, you can tell them Karmilla is my niece." He answered. "And I'm taking care of her because her parents are... unfit to do so."

 

"And why am I there with you?"

 

"Because, after all that's happened to you in the last year, you really need some time away from the Nivengardian court." Grigory leaned back on the chair. "And Finisterre will give you a more than welcome change of scenery."

 

"Lies come out of your mouth so easily." Nadya shook her head, although she had to admit Grigory's account was quite sensible and quite accurate. She could use some distance between Nivengard and herself.

 

"The secret of any good liar, my dearest Nadya," Grigory said with a smile. "Is that we tell the truth more often than not."

 

* * *

The world appeared to shift around Logan once more, and this time he was standing on the room staring at his own dead body sprawled on the chair. In death he did not look as peaceful as he expected, the syringe was still stuck on his arm, and the corners of his mouth were stained with foam. Logan cringed at his own mangled image. His eyes were wide open, and he tried to reach out and close them, but his hand just went right through.

 

"Death is never beautiful." Theresa spoke behind him. "But should this be your choice, maybe it is better for you to see what may come of it."

 

There were several knocks on the door before a servant was bold enough to enter the king's chambers. Logan heard a muffled scream, and then it was only a matter of minutes before the guards and Walter Beck all stormed int the room. For the briefest of moments, Logan saw a triumphant smirk forming on the old knight's face.

 

"He has always wanted me dead." The young king wanted nothing more than to beat the smile off the man.

 

"Yes." The seeress answered plainly. "Without your influence, Walter can take full control of your sister. Become the power behind the throne."

 

"Lenna..." Logan whispered her name the exact moment she made her way into the room.

 

The young king watched helplessly as Lenna approached his dead body. He heard her call his name over and over. It was her who removed the syringe from his arm, and tried to shake him back to life. Her screams soon filled the room, and resounded deep inside Logan's ears. He saw the guards trying to restrain her, only to be sent flying across the room in an outrageous display of the princess' budding powers. Instead of crumbling into a heap of sorrow, Lenna fought to take the sword off Walter's hands. She kicked and screamed, until there was no one able to stop her. And then, much to Logan's horror, she plunged the sword into her own chest.

 

Logan frowned. The scene unfolding before his eyes was as gruesome as the seeress intended. But there was something... off about it. Everything had happened way too fast, too smooth. Despite her powers, there was no way Lenna would have been able to fend off every single guard plus Walter. And it did not make sense for the old knight to stand and watch idle as his princess stabbed herself to death. More so, in case a servant found him in such a state, the procedure would have been to call for Dr. Winton. His body would not have been left like that for the princess to find.

 

He took a deep breath and focused on those small details. As soon as he assimilated it's falsehood, the vision faded away. Once again, Logan was sitting in his chambers alive. The syringe still in his hand.

 

"I am not like my father." He looked straight at Theresa. "Your manipulations don't work with me."

 

"I cannot allow you to die, not now, Logan." The seeress voice was as calmed as ever, but still she recoiled. "It is your duty to unite Albion against its enemy."

 

"The only enemy they can see is me." He answered. Suddenly suicide did not appear to be the only choice. "And maybe that's all you need."

 

"What do you suggest?" Theresa tilted her head, visibly intrigued by the new course of action forming inside Logan's head.

 

"Maybe there is a way for the people of Albion to rise and prepare for battle." the young king narrowed his eyes. "And I'm willing to sacrifice myself, and give them the ruler they deserve. But you have to promise me something in return."

 

"A moment ago you were willing to end your own life." The woman tilted her head, almost as if she could see him.

 

"I still am." Logan smirked. "The plan I'm proposing you might kill me all the same. I know who my enemies are, and I know how to rally them all against me. All they need is an alternative, a Hero they can place on the throne instead of me. A queen, so loved and charismatic, that people will be willing to die for her."

 

"A revolution." Theresa nodded slightly. "And what is it that you want in return?"

 

"My freedom." He answered. "If I survive, I want to be able to have the rest of my life all to myself. I want you to cross me off the bloodline, and act as if I had never existed. If I can manage to leave Albion, once Lenna is made queen and The Darkness defeated, you will not try to find me."

 

"And if I refuse?"

 

"In that case, I end my life right now. Come what may." Logan stood up. Even if he wasn't nearly as tall as his father, he still towered over Theresa. "And, if the vision you showed me is remotely accurate, I believe my demands are not really that unreasonable."

 

"Is that all?" The woman asked, evidently vexed to have had her vision called off.

 

"No, there is one more thing. But that one is not a requirement, more like something for you to take into account." Logan realized just how rare it was for someone to take the upper hand in a negotiation with Theresa of all people. He decided to seize the opportunity to voice his greatest concern. " Our bloodline has become a liability for Albion. The constant presence of Heroes has driven our people into complacency. Even our military forces are useless. I know for a fact that Lenna will never be able to produce an heir, and I have no intention of having any children myself. Maybe it's time to let this cursed lineage fade away."

 

There was a moment of silence, but Logan could tell Theresa's own mind was set in motion.

 

"Do you mean... no more Heroes born from your lineage?" The seeress asked.

 

"No more, just regular people rising to their full potential." He leaned back on the chair. "Who knows? Maybe they'll even develop powers of their own."

 

"A most interesting thought..." The words could be heard in the room, but Theresa was nowhere to be seen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo... this is the very first story I post in here. Thank you for checking it out, hope you enjoy it.
> 
> In case you liked the artwork and want to see some more, please check out my DeviantArt or Instagram:
> 
> www.instagram.com/ella_blackheart
> 
> tanzanight.deviantart.com


End file.
